


the cafe between us

by isabellaofcastile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Victor Nikiforov, College Student Katsuki Yuuri, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-01-23 13:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12508892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabellaofcastile/pseuds/isabellaofcastile
Summary: in which an exchange student and handsome barista find themselves falling for each other





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, there… it’s time to wake up…” Slowly, Yuuri began to notice the dimmed lights of his favorite coffee shop. He smelt soap, heard the crinkling of trash bags and the whirring of a vacuum. He looked up, and saw him. “Wow, you were really out!” he said with a big, indulgent grin. Pulling his head off of the table, a line of drool connecting his arm and mouth, Yuuri realized that he had fallen asleep on his notes. He lifted his arms off of his notes, wiping his mouth and realizing that his drool had dripped onto the notes that he had taken hours to painstakingly organize. Now thoroughly embarrassed, he looked around and saw the other employees in the midst of closing the coffee shop. Some of the lights had dimmed, someone was cleaning the windows, another taking out a bag of trash. A bright flush covered Yuuri’s face and neck as he looked back up at the barista who had woken him. 

“I-I’m sorry… I’ll be gone in j-just a second!” He said nervously, beginning to shove his now-dead laptop and papers into his backpack. The barista laughed again as Yuuri rushed to pack his things, his silver hair bouncing as he bent back some. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and giving it a tender pat, “You are always working so hard when you’re in here. Don’t worry about it.” He gave Yuuri a quick wink, tossing his apron over his shoulder and walking away. Yuuri finished packing up his things, and promptly left, the door quickly locked behind him. He gave the shop one last glance, noticing the silver-haired barista laughing with a co-worker as they stacked chairs on top of the table he had just been sleeping on. He turned back around, pulling his scarf down to wipe one last bit of dried drool and briskly walked back to his apartment. 

Yuuri was in the middle of his last semester as an undergraduate student. This was about the time that many people’s midterms were being given, and Yuuri’s had all happened to fall in the same week. He hadn’t slept more than 5 hours in weeks, and spent a lot of time in his favorite coffee shop. He loved the atmosphere, though it was almost always hectic, being in the middle of the city, and all. He loved the friendly baristas who remembered his order, he loved that he was almost always the first to know when the Wi-Fi password changed, and he loved that it felt like a second home. He could go there to get out of the house and to distract himself from the stress of school, but also to see his favorite barista. 

He was sure that he was just another customer to him, but still couldn’t help but get flustered around him. The way that he stared deeply into Yuuri’s eyes whenever he took his order, as if he was the only person on Earth, sent his heart aflutter. Sometimes he would make designs in Yuuri’s lattes, and other times he would sneak him small snacks and a wink as he walked by Yuuri’s table. Yuuri tried to stop himself from going in just to see if he was there, occasionally going to different shops on campus or staying home and studying, but never felt as productive as when he was there. Sometimes he would watch the barista, trying to see if he treated other customers the same, and though he shared his charm with everyone, he never gave them the niceties that he gave Yuuri. 

Walking back into his apartment, Yuuri took off his shoes, dropped his bag, and walked directly to his room, not bothering to turn on any of the lights. He took off all his clothes, save for his boxers, and crawled into bed. He rubbed his dry, red eyes and waited for sleep to befall him. Tonight, he would attempt to catch up on sleep so that he could study the next day without falling asleep again. He thought of the barista, how he familiarly rubbed Yuuri’s shoulder, causing a blush to spread across his face once again. His silver hair falling just below his eye, his big, jovial grin and his handsome, chiseled chin. Yuuri longed to be near him again, to feel special and important. But, remembered, that this is just a coffee shop, and he is just a customer. Surely it’s just due to the sheer amount of time that Yuuri spends in there, and maybe that he’s a generous tipper (they have to deal with a lot, working at a coffee shop. Don’t they at least deserve a good tip?) 

But, still, he hoped that maybe he wasn’t just a customer. 

Yuuri went back to the shop a few days later, wanting that atmosphere in order to study for a particularly important exam the next day. He had felt comfortable enough with the material that he allowed himself to study somewhere other than the stuffy, Dorito and Red Bull scented library on campus. At this time of year, people were already bringing pillows and blankets to the library, hogging study rooms by covering the door’s windows with their jackets and shoving 5 people in when it was meant for 2, and clearing the small coffee shop inside of everything they sold. Yuuri enjoyed the sense of urgency that studying in the library gave him, since he absorbed that which everyone around him felt, but he began to crave the clean, espresso-scented coffee shop after a few days of studying there. That, and he wanted to see Viktor, the handsome silver-haired barista. 

Walking in, he quickly scanned the shop to see what tables were available as the door slammed behind him, making the old bell jingle as it hit the doorframe. He saw a couple leaving his favorite table, so he quickly walked over and scooped it up from under them as they left. He got in line, ordered his drink, and sat back down. He pulled out his laptop, put on his headphones, and took a deep breath. This exam was worth a large portion of his grade, and he had done a lot to make sure that he would get a good grade on it, like making study guides, flash cards, and even rewriting all of his lecture notes. Yuuri hadn’t gone more than a semester or two without being on the Dean’s list, but he was human, too. When his dog died back with his family in Japan right around finals two semesters prior, Yuuri was in such emotional distress that he couldn’t focus on studying for more than 30 minutes at a time. He failed a few of his finals, which brought his GPA down a considerable amount, since he was miserable that he couldn’t go back to say goodbye. 

Out of the periphery, Yuuri saw someone bring a drink to his table. In the mug, a small, white heart. Pulling his headphones down around his neck, he looked up and saw him. It was Viktor who made his drink and who brought it to his table. He felt his face get a little warm as he searched for the words to use so that he could thank him, but ended up choking on his spit instead. Coughing violently, he felt tears pool in his eyes. Oh GOD oh god oh GOD OH GOD WHY he thought as he reached for his water bottle, desperate to not look worse. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked, leaning down and meeting Yuuri’s glance, his eyes curled with concern. 

Through coughs, Yuuri said that he was fine. 

“Just… I just choked on a bit of spit.” He said, taking a big gulp of water. 

Then, he did it again. He put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. His look of concern turning back into his bright, jovial expression, he let out a big laugh. 

“God, you had me worried there for a second!” He then looked down at the notes that Yuuri had spread across the table, each in its own neat pile. 

“Do you have an exam coming up?” 

Pushing his glasses back up his face, he answered “Yeah, I have a big one tomorrow.”

Viktor scanned the notes, looking as if he wanted to pick them up, but holding back since they were clearly organized in a certain way. Looking back at Yuuri, he smiled once again. It seemed almost as if light was coming from his face, his smile accentuating his wonderful cheekbones and narrow jaw. 

“Well, I’ll leave you be, then. I’m sure you’ll do great.” He stood back up straight, putting his hand on Yuuri’s as he pushed himself back up. With a wink, he turned back around and went behind the coffee stand. Yuuri grabbed the hand he had touched and placed it in his other hand, feeling a blush creep up his face again. Pushing his glasses farther up his nose, he quickly put his headphones back on and took a deep breath. Focus… focus… oh god he’s so handsome FOCUS FOCUS FOCUS—putting his latte to his lips, he let the sweet cream and strong coffee coat his tongue, he let the bold espresso smell dance around his nose as the steam escaped the drink, and he let the warmth fill his chest. The drinks that Viktor made were always his favorite.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor and yuuri learn a bit more about each other  
> cw// cigarette mention (for those of you who may be recovering)

When Yuuri was able to focus and hone in on his work, the world disappeared around him. It was just him and his notes. In those productive times, he would eat up entire albums without even realizing that he had listened to the entire thing, and not even realize how stiff he had been sitting. After studying for about two hours, Yuuri closed his laptop and decided to walk outside and smoke a cigarette. He had been trying to quit, but he allowed himself these simple indulgences in times of high stress. He smoked the same cigarettes as his sister; the smell reminded him of Hasetsu. 

He walked outside and away from the door, as to not disturb those walking in and out. He pulled his ¾ full carton from his pocket and popped a cigarette between his lips. He fished around for his ancient lighter, and pulled it out, giving it a couple test flicks. He lit the cigarette, inhaling deep and long, letting the smoke fill his lungs. Exhaling, he smelt the sweet nicotine that reminded him of home. It’s been said that one’s sense of smell is the strongest catalyst for memory, and Yuuri believed it. He could smell the salty ocean, feel the sand in his toes, hear the crackling of fried pork and clinking of glass beer bottles. He could remember home.  


Staring up at the Detroit sky, Yuuri couldn’t see any stars. Detroit was much, much different than Hasetsu. He heard the aggressive honking of horns, blinking of traffic lights and chittering of people as they made their journeys through the city. Letting the cigarette sit in his mouth, Yuuri felt an overwhelming feeling of homesickness come over him. He didn’t often feel this homesick, as he spent a large part of his adolescence traveling. Sometimes, though, when he craved the decadence of katsudon or the crispness of beer from the tap at his family’s hot spring, he did feel homesick. It’s funny how simple scents can evoke such a strong emotional response. 

“I didn’t know that you smoked?” Yuuri heard next to him. He saw Viktor lean on the wall next to him, also holding a cigarette between his fingers. 

“I-I could ask the same of you!” Yuuri replied, taking his out of his mouth. 

“I’m trying to quit. I’m getting too old to take advantage of my health like this. I just have this out of habit. I never actually light it.” 

Yuuri was too nervous to say anything. He had avoided starting any conversation since he knew that Viktor was working and didn’t want to get him in trouble. He tried to take another drag of his cigarette, but noticed that its light had gone out. It was still as cold as winter at this time of year in Detroit, even though it was already March. He fumbled around his pockets again, pulling out his grimy old lighter. He gave it another test flick, but this time, it didn’t light. Sucking in air between his cheeks, Yuuri stared at it in disappointment. “Aahh, damn...” 

“Here, I got it.” Viktor moved closer to Yuuri, pulling out his own lighter. As the cigarette hung loosely between Yuuri’s lips, he felt his face grow hot and red, even to spite the cold wind hitting up against it. Viktor held his hand up against it, just slightly touching Yuuri’s cheek, as to shield it from the wind. “There,” he said. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, quietly. He took another drag, careful to blow it away from Viktor. 

“How’s the studying coming along?” Viktor said, pulling out his phone and scrolling around. 

“I-It’s fine, thanks,” Yuuri replied, unsure of the level of familiarity that he ought to express to him. 

“What are you studying?” 

“Social work. Hopefully I can be a school counselor, but we’ll see…” He couldn’t help but avoid looking at Viktor’s face. He always, always blushed bright red. He was just so... beautiful. 

“I would expect nothing less, I think it’s noble you’d choose such a selfless field.” He said, Yuuri noticing him looking toward him out of the peripheral vision. 

Smiling, he said “thanks.” He still felt that gnawing feeling of homesickness, so smiling felt a little harder than usual. 

“Is everything okay?” Viktor inquired, likely noticing Yuuri’s sullen expression. 

“Yeah, just feeling homesick and stressed,” he said, not wanting to go into detail but wanting desperately to keep the conversation going, holding the cigarette close to his mouth. He put it back in after he said this, taking another drag. Hopefully he could make it last the rest of the conversation. 

“Well,” Viktor replied, putting his hand on Yuuri’s arm. “I’m here if you need me. I see how hard you work, and you remind me of when I was in my undergrad.” His expression was tender and caring, but his eyes stared longingly into Yuuri’s. Yuuri felt himself tense around Viktor’s hand, but tried his hardest not to pull away. Something about him was so warm and inviting, he loved the feeling that he was the only person on Earth to him. 

“Yeah, I will, t-thank you,” he said, his cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth and the ashes falling off as his mouth moved to talk. 

“Well, I’ve got to get back in there. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” He said to Yuuri, giving his arm a gentle rub. 

“Yeah! Talk to you l-later,” he replied, his heart beating quickly in his chest. He could see his glasses fog up a bit, and he felt himself sink into the brick wall a bit. He watched Viktor walk around him, putting his apron on and tying it around his waist, just noticeable as his t-shirt hugged his strong frame. 

Oh, God… Yuuri felt as he swooned outside, taking a final drag of his cigarette. He didn’t know how else to savor the feeling that Viktor gave him than to let himself slide down the wall and onto the ground, sitting, while holding his head in his hands. He was so overwhelmingly handsome, his aura so kind and magnetic, what did Yuuri offer that interested Viktor? Noticing the time, Yuuri took his cigarette out of his mouth, crushing it on the heel of his foot, and tossing it in the receptacle next to him. He still had a bit left to review, and even though the weight of this exam had been stressing him for a few weeks, something about it felt just a bit more manageable after talking to Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in a world where yuuri doesn't skate he would DEFINITELY smoke. we've all seen how he drinks hehehe  
> Also i hope that you can all imagine ur fave coffee shops as youre reading this! i didnt want to make anything about the coffee shop too specific. i have a favorite coffee shop, but keep thinking of the starbucks right next to my house as i write this lol  
> also dhgdfgfgfdhdf THANK U ALL FOR READING!!! :,-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which yuuri and viktor happen upon each other outside of the coffee shop
> 
> cw// alcohol + vomit mentions

After his midterms, feeling sufficiently satisfied with how he performed, Yuuri went out drinking with his friends…er…. acquaintances. He hadn’t gone to his favorite bar in a couple weeks since he tried not to drink during exam periods. He went with a group of people he had been acquainted with, as they shared a lab course together and were also exchange students. Their favorite bar, though a little on the pricey side, was one of the few places where they could find their favorite drinks, considered “foreign” in Detroit but inexpensive back home. They drank, ate greasy food that reminded them all of home, and commiserated about the frustrations that they encountered while studying. Because he was feeling particularly good this night, he didn’t quite realize how much he had drank. He tended to run into this problem whenever he drank with a group of people. Speaking to him in Japanese, someone shouted at him from across the table. 

“[Hey, Katsuki!]” He said, moving his arm across the table and slapping Yuuri’s. “[Do you want to come with me and Nakamura to do karaoke upstairs?]” Yuuri hadn’t done karaoke in what felt like years, but in reality, was only about 6 months. His memory never served him well, particularly after he drank. He gladly joined Nakamura and Kobayashi to karaoke, singing and drinking even more. He loved how well he got along with people when he was inebriated, since he found it so hard to talk to people this way when he was sober. Eventually, though, Yuuri noticed that it was about 1:30 a.m. and that he had only gotten a couple hours of sleep the night before. At the same time, Nakamura and Kobayashi realized the time as well, and they decided to leave. 

As they lived on opposite sides of town, Yuuri parted with his friends, saying that he would see them after the break. Yuuri’s apartment was only a couple blocks away from the bar he had just left, so he felt okay walking home. But, as people with poor judgement tend to do, Yuuri overestimated the limits to which his body could properly take him home. In other words, he stumbled the entire way. And, as luck would have it, he got to pass his favorite coffee shop as well, as it was also close to where he lived. 

However, as he walked by, when normally the lights would be off by now, they turned off just as Yuuri passed. Curious, he stopped and peered in. And, out walked Viktor and another person that Yuuri didn’t recognize. (In this state, he wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was looking at his own reflection.) 

“V-Viktor!” Yuuri shouted. Viktor looked over, jacket over his arm, with a surprised look on his face. “What’r yew doing out so late?” Saying goodbye to the person he had just been talking to, Viktor walked toward where Yuuri was. (Leaning, against a stop sign.) 

“And what are YOU doing out so late? I thought that you had exams?” Viktor replied. 

“I finished em! So I wen’ out and draaaaaaaaank!” Yuuri was becoming obnoxious now. “I thought that this place clos’d at ten? What GIVES?” 

“Well, we had to stay late since there’s some remodeling being done… do you need help home?” Viktor asked, grabbing Yuuri as he slid further down the pole he was leaning against. 

“Mmmm… no… I-I got it…” Yuuri replied, his speech becoming more slurred and sounding as if a lump had grown in his throat. Out loud, in Japanese, Yuuri mumbled “[Oh, shit…]” as he threw up on the sidewalk, somehow avoiding himself. 

“Oh, God… Let’s get you some place safe, okay?” 

“Ahhh, nope! I am… I am oh-kay… I’m perf’ctly FINE…” Yuuri said, wiping off his mouth, only to heave and throw up even more. He began to wobble, so Viktor grabbed him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. 

“Where do you live? Do you live close?” 

“I… I liv’ right dow’… I live righ’ down there…” Yuuri said, his eyes half-closed and his index finger pointing indiscriminately away from himself, giving no real indication of where he lived. Right after, he lost consciousness, his body becoming a deadweight on Viktor’s arm. 

Though Viktor was annoyed with this sort of thing when he was in college, he found it endearing that such a dedicated person like Yuuri would go off the rails like this. He almost didn’t mind taking care of him, and found it more funny than anything that they ran into each other under such strange circumstances. Not knowing at all where Yuuri lived, Viktor hoisted Yuuri’s slender body up onto his shoulder and put him in his car. He had a couch, and hopefully Yuuri wouldn’t be too surprised when he woke up. Viktor only lived a short drive from the coffee shop, so Yuuri wouldn’t be too far from where he lived. Viktor could feel how strange this was, but knew that there wasn’t much else that he could do so late at night. He would apologize in the morning, citing Yuuri’s vomit as they key evidence for proving how drunk he was. 

As Viktor drove them to his apartment, he would occasionally look over at Yuuri. Despite his mismatched, wrinkled clothes and the small dribble of vomit on his cheek, he had had his eyes on Yuuri since he started coming in to the shop that he managed. He loved the way that his glasses framed his delicate cheeks, how his bold eyebrows curled and uncurled as he struggled through readings, the way he held his head in his hands like a cherub… He had only told one of his other coworkers about his infatuation with Yuuri, to which he replied with a hearty laugh, saying how cliché it was for the barista to fall for his customer. But, clichés aside, Viktor thought that Yuuri was striking. He couldn’t help but use his position as a barista to get his attention, like putting hearts in his latte and stealing cookies to sneak over when he was in the middle of studying. He was poor at communicating his feelings, so Viktor attempted to connect with Yuuri with coffee and cookies. He wasn’t totally sure how it would work out. 

Before he knew it, they were pulling into Viktor’s apartment’s parking garage. He found his spot, cut the engine, and looked over at Yuuri. He wasn’t particularly large, and looked like he wouldn’t be too hard to carry to his apartment. Viktor got out of his car, tossing his apron and name tag into the back passenger seat, and walked around to Yuuri’s side. Viktor attempted to wake Yuuri, but wasn’t surprised that he was dead asleep. 

“Alright, sleepy-head. Let’s go,” Viktor whispered to Yuuri, once again hoisting him onto his shoulder. Taking the elevator up to his place, Viktor couldn’t help but quietly laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here comes Yuuri, stumbling past his coffee shop and now about to sleep on his couch. Viktor opened the door to his apartment, turning on the lights and slipping off his shoes. He attempted to take Yuuri’s off at the door, but to no avail. He instead dragged Yuuri to his couch, moving the throw pillows onto the ground with his feet and plopping him down. He then untied and slipped off Yuuri’s shoes, took off his scarf and coat, and covered him with Viktor’s favorite blanket. Yuuri immediately curled up into a ball, making soft noises as he repositioned himself on Viktor’s couch. Viktor couldn’t help but blush when he saw how gentle Yuuri looked as he slept, but was suddenly reminded of the fact that Yuuri would have no idea where he was when he woke up. 

Believing that Yuuri would understand, Viktor brushed his teeth and went to bed, careful as to not disturb his dog that had likely been sleeping all day. He lay in bed, staring at the door, knowing that Yuuri was sleeping just beyond and longing to look into his big, brown doe eyes. Hopefully, in the morning, he would have a chance. 

***

Waking up, Yuuri immediately felt the sharp, primal desire for water. He groggily lifted his face off of an unfamiliar pillow, rubbing his crusty eyes and feeling around for his glasses. Though the room was a blur, he still wasn’t able to recognize it. The blanket felt softer than his, thinner but velvety, as if it were a simple throw blanket. Putting his glasses on, the world now clear, he realized that he was in a place he didn’t recognize. Thinking back to the night before, he racked his mind in an attempt to remember what had gotten him here. Looking at his wrist watch, he saw that it was 11 a.m., about 3 hours later than he normally woke up. Frantically, he tossed the blanket off of himself and searched around for his backpack. He kicked a can precariously set next to the couch as he did this, noticing that the bag lining the inside of it had small chunks of indistinguishable bits. _Oh, God, is that mine?_ Yuuri thought to himself. 

Thoroughly flustered, he scurried around this unfamiliar place, failing to take in its sleek, modern décor. Kneeling down to put on his shoes he found at the edge of the couch, Yuuri felt two small, rough paws on his back. He turned around, seeing a dog nearly identical to the one he had had throughout his childhood. Turning immediately to his side, now facing a side table, Yuuri saw a picture frame. In it, were Viktor and the dog that had just grabbed his attention. Everything he could possibly feel as a 24-year-old human, he felt in that second. Anger, with himself for drinking so recklessly; Embarrassed, that he had _somehow_ run into Viktor, of ALL people on Earth, AND thrown up in his beautiful apartment; Happy, that Viktor found him and took care of him. Running his hands through his hair, taking in everything he had just deduced, he hears the door unlock. In walks Viktor, a paper bag in his arm with various veggies sticking out of it, looking up as he took his keys out of the lock. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty!” He said with his heart-shaped smile, letting the door close behind him. He took off his shoes, tossed his keys into a dish, and walked into the kitchen. 

“Care for breakfast?” 

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond. 

“I-I… You… I threw up in your garbage can…” 

Laughing as he took out the bag’s contents, Viktor replied, “Yeah, you did. I found you stumbling around last night and couldn’t find where you lived, so I took you back here. I hope that you don’t mind.” 

“N-No, not at all! Thank you…” Yuuri said, his voice trailing off as he seemed to still be in awe of his surroundings. His face a bright red, hair a greasy, tangled mess and shirt thoroughly wrinkled. 

“I’m making eggs,” Viktor said, pulling a pan down from his cupboard. “How do you like them?” 

Again, Yuuri didn’t respond. 

“Really, it’s no trouble.” Viktor pleaded, the way that he moved around his kitchen as he talked to Yuuri making him feel more comfortable. “Do you have somewhere to be? You can feel free to relax here.” 

Feeling validated by Viktor’s insistence that they share breakfast, his bursts of embarrassment and fervor beginning to subside as Viktor’s dog urged Yuuri to scratch his head, he decided that breakfast surely wouldn’t hurt. 

“Over easy, thanks…” 

Smiling still, Viktor turned on the gas stove and poured a small capful of oil into the pan, letting it bubble and sizzle. 

“I’m making coffee, too, if you’d like,” he added, cracking an egg loudly and letting it pour into the pan, the sulfur smell wafting toward Yuuri and making him remember that he hadn’t eaten since early the night before. 

“That sounds nice, thank you.” 

“No need to thank me!” Viktor said, looking at Yuuri over his shoulder. Yuuri was still sitting on the ground, rubbing his eyes much to Makkachin’s annoyance. 

A comfortable silence entered Viktor’s apartment as the smell of eggs danced around them and the anticipation of coffee keeping them from avoiding one another. 

“Your dog looks just like the one I had when I was a kid,” Yuuri exclaimed suddenly, wanting to connect with Viktor now that he wasn’t overwhelmed by his fight-or-flight response. 

“Really? They were popular back in the day, weren’t they…” Viktor replied, sounding mature as he commented on the past with a nostalgic sigh. They again let that silence fill the room, Viktor quietly cooking breakfast for the two of them, as if they had lived together before. Placing mugs and plates on his small, windowside table, he and Yuuri sat down together.  
“How are you feeling? You were, uh…”

“I feel okay. And, I know. I get just like my Dad when I drink, sometimes.”

“Oh, really?” Viktor couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as he hesitated to sip his coffee. Laughing with him, Yuuri agreed. 

“I thought that someone as disciplined as you wouldn’t drink in the first place?” 

“Well, you’d think, but I like to have fun once in a while. I’m just embarrassed that you had to take care of me…” Yuuri said, his eyes avoiding Viktor’s as he recalled what may have happened to get him here. 

“Considering how long and heavy you slept, it was really no inconvenience to me. I was still able to get done what I needed!” He said, putting up his index finger as he praised himself. 

They continued to eat together quietly, occasionally exchanging questions about one another, and treading carefully around an unestablished familiarity that was yet to be acknowledged between the two men. Outside the context of the coffee shop, they were free to express their mutual interest in one another, but also found it hard to translate what semblance of a relationship they did have to each other to the setting of Viktor’s apartment as Yuuri recovered from what he would recall as a particularly bad hangover. But, nevertheless, the comfort that they found in each other as they ate their eggs was new to each of them, and they wouldn’t say it, but they wanted more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god thank u guys so much!! i've been really depressed lately and i only meant for this to be a way to relieve some school-related stress but im having a lot of fun!!!!! thank you all for reading!!!!!! also i have this pic in my head as yuuri is shouting, I hope that it helps to add some humor: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C_pSoMSXsAEELJI.jpg  
> p.s. i am gonna cite Yuri!!! on STAGE as evidence that Yuuri is fully capable of getting black out drunk and not remembering what he did the night before  
> and btw my twitter handle is @isaBELLUH97 if u all wanna hang w me more!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Viktor and Yuuri finally begin to connect

After they finished their breakfast, Yuuri and Victor felt comfortable with each other’s presences more than they had before, but were still unsure of how to sustain what they cultivated over coffee that morning. As Yuuri began to leave, still feeling thoroughly grimy but pleasantly full, Viktor stopped him.

“Yuuri!” He shouted, Yuuri backing into the apartment. “Do you… maybe… can I see you again?” 

Viktor had been trying to find the right way to show that he was interested in Yuuri beyond just making his coffee and poorly flirting with him at the coffee shop. He loved spending time with Yuuri that morning, more than he thought that he would. He knew that he was taking a chance pursuing someone so much younger than he was, but Viktor couldn’t help but be drawn to him. His eyes were kind and understanding, his laugh angelic and sweet… Viktor loved the youthful glow that his face had, the way that he worked so hard even in spite of himself. It was inspiring, and he wanted more. 

Standing in the door frame, Yuuri seemed to be trying to find the words to answer Viktor’s question. Quickly, Viktor added, “I liked having you over a lot. It gets lonely here sometimes… I can make dinner for us…?” On the outside, Viktor may have seemed collected, but inside, he was kicking himself for being so forward. He didn’t want to seem desperate, but wanted so badly to see Yuuri again. He saw Yuuri scratching his fingers, searching for something to say. “I don’t often have people over… and I know that it was kind of strange that I brought you here. Looking around Viktor’s apartment, avoiding his glance awkwardly, Yuuri nodded. 

“Y-Yeah, that sounds nice!” In his attempt to smile back sweetly, Yuuri’s expression was sour and forced. Viktor, with a hearty laugh, replied “It’s a date!” His cheeks had a healthy, red glow to them. Yuuri felt himself blush, too, as he sheepishly waved and slid out the door. 

Briskly walking to the stairs, nearly falling down as he sped down, he attempted to orient himself when he entered the street. Viktor lived a few blocks away from Yuuri, but even farther from the coffee shop. The door closing before him, Yuuri felt around his pockets. He found his cigarettes and lighter that he had been saving, and shakily took one out to light. Though he knew it was unhealthy, something about smoking helped Yuuri when his anxiety got the best of him. The simple act of forcing himself to exist in that moment was what calmed him the most. He had to search for both his cigarettes and lighter, had to place the cigarette in his mouth, light it such that he didn’t burn himself, and actively blow the smoke away from others. It was forcing himself to stop thinking about the past, the future, and to _exist_ for just a moment that helped. And, he thought, he smoked much less than he did when he first started college. 

His face still felt red and hot, though, surprised that he had accepted a date with Viktor. Normally he may have found a way around it or to put it off, but he acted in spite of himself when he accepted it with little thought. He sucked down the cigarette faster than usual, letting the ash fill his mouth and lungs, the sweet nicotine smell once again coating his tongue and nose. _A date, huh…_ Yuuri thought. 

Yuuri had been on dates before, both with men and women, but was never as nervous for one as he was with Viktor. He could feel himself shaking in his coat and scarf, quivering with anticipation. He felt it deep in his stomach, blossoming up into his chest and seeping through his veins. It smelt sweet and warm like the nicotine in his mouth, but spread and clung to his insides like molasses. He felt the sun shining brightly on his face, warming his body as he stood outside Viktor’s apartment building, thinking back to the breakfast that they had shared with just minutes before. The pepper and oil clinging to his tongue, dancing with the embers, and creating a new note in his repertoire, hopefully being catalyzed and remembered with the same painful nostalgia that Yuuri thought about Hasetsu. 

He wanted to carve a new sense of home in Detroit, but it didn’t even _really_ need to be Detroit. It could be anywhere, doing anything. All he knew, and though he didn’t quite understand it, was that he wanted Viktor to be there. He knew himself enough that he understood what _he_ wanted to feel and see and do and know and could share it with someone without it being toxic to him. But seeing Viktor’s smile, receiving his kindness, albeit under embarrassing and strange circumstances, and his pining validated by a simple dinner date—Yuuri wanted to understand Viktor the way that he understood Hasetsu. 

Catching himself being carried away in his anticipation, Yuuri noticed that his cigarette’s light had gone out. He laughed to himself, holding his hand to his cheek and feeling connected to every Yuuri from his past. He hoped that they were happy, too.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry that this took so long and that it's kind of short! i have an exam on wednesday so i haven't been writing as much since i need to study. (i've also been watching stranger things...) thank you all for your kind feedback! i promise that i will have another (LONG) chapter up by the end of the week! if u wanna keep up w/ me then follow me on twitter (@isaBELLUH97) :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor and yuuri have their first date 
> 
> cw// alcohol

Setting dishes out in preparation, Viktor could feel his hands trembling. It had been considerable amount of time since he had last been on a date. As he began to slice a clove of garlic, he sliced his finger. Taking in a sharp breath of air, he dropped the knife on the counter with a loud clang. Holding his hand to his chest, Viktor looked at the blood bubbling out from the small cut. He laughed, finding it endearing that he was trembling with excitement. He hadn’t seen Yuuri in about a week, and he was excited to see him again. Taking a deep breath, walking to his sink and rinsing off his hand, Viktor tried to channel the confidence he felt while managing the coffee shop. He dried his hands, then searched for a bandage so that he could finish preparing dinner. As he pulled down a small box, Viktor felt Makkachin step on his foot. Her tail was wagging, probably because she smelt the food Viktor was making. He bent down and scratched her ears, much to her delight. Then, the doorbell rang. Brushing off his shirt and walking over, Viktor felt his stomach bursting and blossoming. Opening the door, he saw Yuuri. His eyes wide and brown like bourbon, looking at him through his thick, blue-rimmed glasses. His nose had a redness to its tip, and upon noticing this, Viktor urged Yuuri inside. 

As Yuuri walked in, smiling sweetly, he immediately felt at home. Maybe it’s that he had already slept there, but it seemed just as familiar as his own apartment-- almost as if he hadn’t left in the first place. As he took off his scarf and jacket, he was drawn toward the kitchen by the sweet smell of garlic and ginger, and suddenly felt his mouth fill with saliva. Viktor was looking at him expectantly, happy that Yuuri was finally here. 

Sharing dinner together, seeing the cityscape at Viktor’s windowside table, lights dimmed tastefully, Viktor and Yuuri drank more than wine. They drank in the essence of one another; They gazed deeply into one another’s eyes, searching for the decadence of companionship that found them when they first shared this table. The cityscape, intermittent lighting of apartment buildings and the bright horizon, illuminated the details of one another’s faces. Yuuri took in how the light caught Viktor’s silver hair, parted just over his eye, and how it fell gently on his cheeks, hollowing out his cheekbones and giving depth to his jaw. And Viktor, soaking in Yuuri’s youthful glow, loved how the night’s clement light nestled itself in his collarbones, accentuating his unkempt, loose-fitting sweater. After dinner, they sat on Viktor’s couch, still sipping at wine. At this point, they were pleasantly drunk.

Yuuri, swirling the wine in his glass, felt somewhat out of place. He wasn’t much of a wine person, though he did still like it. It was the way that the wine glass rested in his hand that felt foreign, sitting in Viktor’s comfortable apartment, thinking back to his own apartment and suddenly feeling self-conscious because of how poorly furnished and plain it was. As he began to stare off, Viktor, cheeks flushed red, stared at him with intent. Yuuri felt his skin electrify, but he tried not to let it show. He took a sip, avoiding Viktor’s glance, parsing his brain for something, _anything_ to talk about. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor said, his orotund voice deep and sultry as he spoke. His head bobbed as he moved closer to Yuuri, wanting badly to touch him but holding back. “Are you okay? You seem nervous.” 

Moving the glass from one hand to the other, he replied, “I am, but it’s okay. I just… I haven’t been on a date in a long time. I’m trying to keep you interested, I guess!” He laughed sheepishly, now meeting Viktor’s glance. His bright blue eyes striking as he leaned in toward Yuuri. Then, snapping back, Viktor belted a huge laugh, covering his stomach with his hand. 

“No need to be! Why don’t you tell me about yourself, then?” 

His palms beginning to clam up, he continued to rack his mind. _What do I say? What should I talk about?_ He explained how he moved to America a couple years prior, that he did figure skating as a kid but took a break when he was accepted to University in Detroit, that his family owned a hot spring in Japan, all while Viktor gazed upon him, enamored with every word that spilt clumsily out of his mouth. When there was a lull in the conversation, Viktor got up to refill their glasses. As he walked into the kitchen, miscalculating his step, his foot ran directly into the corner of the coffee table, shifting it forward a couple inches. 

“[Oh, shit!]” Viktor shouted in Russian, doubling over in pain. After the initial jolt of pain made its way through his body, he giggled quietly to himself, noticing how warm his face felt. He didn’t think that he’d get this drunk on his first date with Yuuri and was embarrassed. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuri shouted back and finally noticing that, a lot of the labels on his food were in Russian. Viktor simply put a thumb up as he sat on the ground. He finally got up and refilled their glasses, finishing off the bottle, then walking back over to where Yuuri and he had been sitting.

“Was that Russian you spoke just now?” Yuuri asked as Viktor handed him his glass, wanting desperately to change the subject from himself. 

“Oh, yes, yes. I’m Russian, you couldn’t tell?” Viktor replied, Yuuri feeling thoroughly embarrassed that he, in fact, didn’t notice. He had been too preoccupied with his own nervousness to see something so obvious. 

“Have you lived in America your whole life?”

“My family moved here when I was younger. We lived in Russia until I was a young child, but moved to America to be with the rest of my family who had moved long before. I have an accent still, but it’s not as thick as theirs,” he replied, looking at the wine swirling in his glass. He took a sip, Yuuri noticing how his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed it. Catching Yuuri’s glance, he continued, “We were part of a big immigrant community. I only really missed it when I went off to college. I’m sure that you feel the same way, yeah?” 

“Oh, well, I like spending time with the other exchange students, but I came from a small town. Plus, I was never that great at making friends,” he answered, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I think about going back sometimes, to New York. I haven’t seen my family in a long time…” he said, trailing off. “They keep telling me to settle down, but I like it here. I _know_ how old I am, but I don’t really care. It’s much different here than it is in Russia.” Looking over to Yuuri, he moved closer and grabbed his hand. Yuuri felt his skin blossom and grow with goosebumps, but the wine was finally getting to him. He grabbed Viktor’s hand back, letting their fingers intertwine together. Staring deep into Viktor’s eyes, and scanning his body as they leaned closer to each other. Their faces began to close in but, suddenly, Viktor looked past Yuuri, squinting his eyes. 

“Oh, God, it’s already past midnight?” He said. Yuuri turned around, seeing that it was, in fact, past midnight. Sitting back, placing his hand on his forehead and tugging at his hair, he groaned. 

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked. 

“I have to open the shop tomorrow and completely forgot,” he replied, taking his hand off his head and placing it at his side. He looked to Yuuri, the frustrated expression quickly leaving his face. “I guess I was just enjoying myself too much.” 

Yuuri felt himself smile, his inhibitions lessened by the alcohol but now sad that he’d have to walk home because he wanted to spend more time with Viktor, but also because he didn’t feel like walking home in the cold. 

“I can clean up and you can go to bed if you like?” Yuuri offered. 

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just get this tomorrow. Do you need a ride home?” Viktor asked as they both began shifting around, Yuuri gravitating toward the door and gathering his things. 

“I’ll be okay, thank you,” Yuuri said as he wrapped his scarf around his face. Viktor smiled, and pulled him in for a hug. 

“I’m glad you came over, Yuuri. I feel so relaxed around you.” Viktor said, his head resting on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri squeezed Viktor back, taking a deep breath and trying to engrain the memory of his scent in his repertoire of Detroit. 

“I am, too.” He said back, smiling into Viktor’s chest. They said their goodbyes, Viktor’s eyes half-open as he waved goodbye to Yuuri. Yuuri walked down the stairs, now familiar, and entered the street. He felt his heart racing, his face still warm from the wine, and finally realized why he was so nervous around Viktor. It was one of the first times that his feelings had finally been reciprocated so equally, and his heart was beating fast because he was so, so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh jk happy halloween! i still have an exam to study for tomorrow but i really really wanted to write this. i hope that you all enjoy it! (this vid inspired my idea that viktor uses russian whenever he is in pain: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=towGVrxpg7U) 
> 
> thank u all so so so so much for reading!!!!! <3 
> 
> follow me on twitter! @isaBELLUH97


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor sees yuuri deal with failure

During Yuuri’s spring break, he and Viktor tried to spend more and more time with each other. The rest of Yuuri’s semester would likely be spent in a self-imposed isolation, so they wanted to drink each other in as much as possible. Yuuri’s break, lasting about a week and a half, proved to be a perfect amount of time to finally settle into one another. Yuuri found that he loved to spend time at Viktor’s apartment—Makkachin was always excited to see him, it was in a quieter part of town, it smelt clean and fresh, and Viktor loved to cook, which worked to Yuuri’s advantage as he got to eat it all, mistakes and successes alike. They had had dinner once or twice over the break, but Yuuri made every effort to catch up on schoolwork, too, while Viktor was still busy at work, as the café was still under repair. 

One day they both had free, though, they spent at Yuuri’s apartment. Viktor had called, saying he was nearby and if he could stop by? Yuuri, realizing that he hadn’t had anyone over in _ages_ , agreed, but quickly hung up and tidied. It wasn’t that he was dirty, but just… cluttered. The sink was empty, not a soiled mug in sight, but Yuuri tended to live in what can be best understood as “piles”. Piles of laundry grew stale after he washed them, piles of books were moved between the kitchen counter and coffee table and piles of dirty clothes were moved from his desk chair to the floor as either was needed. As he sat his phone down, coated in a thick syrup of self-consciousness, Yuuri furiously reorganized some of these piles. Books met bookshelf, and clothes met hamper or drawer. He wished that he had the motivation to do this all the time. Sitting back down on his couch, laptop on the coffee table and a small glass of water to the side, Yuuri continued to scroll in the little time he had left before Viktor arrived. Suddenly, a notification. 

Yuuri found the page it was from, and realized that the last midterm grade he had been waiting for was posted. It was a particularly long paper that he wrote, and since he was studying so hard for his other classes, he neglected this paper until a few days before. He still felt satisfied with how he had written it, though. But, his professor thought otherwise. As he was reading his professor’s comments, Viktor called again, asking which apartment number Yuuri was. He replied, quietly, still reading his professor’s feedback, and hung up. When Viktor walked in, Yuuri was sitting back on his couch, face in his hands. 

“Hi, Yuuri! I brought pastries!” He shouted as he opened the door, smiling big and vivaciously. Yuuri didn’t want to look at him, he was afraid he may cry from just how _harsh_ the comments were. Rubbing his eyes and the bridge of his nose, he lay back on his couch, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh. 

“Yuuri, what’s wrong?” Viktor said, closing the door and changing his expression. He looked around as he took his shoes off, taking in Yuuri’s small, dim, but comfortable apartment and shuffling over to where he sat. Yuuri didn’t reply, as he was racking his thoughts and trying to calm himself. It was times like this that any progress he had made with his anxiety seemed to fly from his grasp and out the window. Sitting on the couch next to him, Viktor asked again.  
“What happened?” He placed a gentle hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, and that’s when he broke. From the stress and the anxiety, from being in a foreign country with professors who graded from their ego rather than any clear and objective standards, from not being able to see his family, not seeing his dog when he died, everything. He sat on his couch, letting warm tears pool in his eyes as he avoided Viktor’s inquiring eyes. Leaning over, putting his elbows on his knees and covering his face, Yuuri let out quiet sobs. He and Viktor hadn’t known each other for more than about a month now, but something about him let Yuuri open up without judgement. 

Now looking surprised and somewhat uncomfortable, Viktor seemed to shift slightly away from Yuuri. Keeping his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, moving his arm to Yuuri’s lower back, he peered over to Yuuri’s computer screen. He saw a lot of red highlighted text and side notes, and began to read them. 

“Jeez, that’s… harsh,” Viktor said, looking back to Yuuri now. 

“[Yeah, it is!]” Yuuri shouted, more to himself than to Viktor, who didn’t understand what he was saying. He shot up from the couch, grabbing his cigarettes off of his coffee table, and opened the door to his small balcony. Shakily, he lit a cigarette and peered over the railing. He wiped his eyes, letting out a frustrated “[fuck!]” as he continued to hyperfocus on what, in reality, was an assignment worth a smaller percentage of his grade than all of his homework assignments (that he has gotten nothing but perfect scores for so far) combined. But, as is the nature of anxiety, Yuuri couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the undue criticism of his professor, his mind not allowing him the space for rational reasoning. 

Viktor, still sitting on the couch, now racked his mind to think of ways to comfort a crying Yuuri. He was never good with… emotions… but didn’t want to ignore Yuuri who was clearly distressed. Should he just let him be? Should he offer a pastry? He decided to walk to the balcony, and see if Yuuri would even _need_ him to feel better. It’s not like he’s never dealt with failure before, and he wasn’t a child. He could handle a bad grade on his own, but Viktor decided to let Yuuri lead, and he’d be there if he needed it. Arms folded, shoulders tensed and eyes beginning to puff, Yuuri quietly mumbled obscenities as he sucked down his cigarette. He met Viktor’s sympathetic and understanding glance, obviously awaiting an explanation, but saying nothing. He scooted over to where Yuuri was leaning on the railing, wrapping his arm around him. Yuuri didn’t move away, but moved closer into him. He angrily threw the cigarette butt on the ground behind him and stamped it out, immediately pulling out another one. Grabbing his in a quiet understanding, Viktor joined Yuuri, the porch quickly becoming thick with smoke. Yuuri slid the door closed so that it wouldn’t seep into his apartment. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Viktor asked. Yuuri looked over at Viktor, whose chest rested on the railing such that he was comfortably bent over with a cigarette hanging loosely inbetween his fingers. He looked back out and into the unkempt courtyard that lay beyond Yuuri’s apartment building. Sighing, he replied, “I just did _a lot_ worse on a paper than I thought I would.” Letting him talk, Viktor didn’t reply. He didn’t quite know what to say, but felt that Yuuri could heal himself if he just listened. 

“He criticized a lot of my grammar which, was perfectly okay, just not… I don’t know… eloquent? English grammar is so weird, anyways.” Yuuri said, now becoming animated but his left arm holding his right, shoulders bent in confusion and frustration. He continued to look out past the courtyard. “I’m not the best writer, but I know that this paper wasn’t bad. I know that I shouldn’t have done it so last minute, but it’s not like I didn’t know what I was talking about! He said that the analysis was good, but that I was being too ‘general’ and ‘anecdotal’, which makes no sense because all of the readings that we do in class are anecdotal and general!” Yuuri said, sucking down his cigarette even quicker now, taking a drag with every pause for breath in his rant. He continued to rant like this, saying how he was exhausted and just wanted to get his degree and be _done_ with college, that he wanted to be done constantly feeling inadequate, with feeling like he would never be good enough. 

Viktor, feeling overwhelmed, only occasionally took a drag, relishing the way that the nicotine sat in the back of his throat as he allowed himself this little break in his progress. He let Yuuri rant on for a couple minutes, and when he finished, looking more at ease, but still disappointed, he stamped out his own cigarette and wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, then moving back away toward the wall near him. His movements were unnerving, but it was probably that the physical boundaries they had were unclear. Seeing him stamp out his cigarette, Yuuri exclaimed, “I thought that you were quitting?” 

“I am, but I decided to treat myself,” he replied, looking out past the courtyard. Yuuri looked over to Viktor, standing up against the brick wall adjacent to the railing, his arms crossed and a relaxed expression on his face. His light sweater sat neatly on his strong, wideset shoulders and accentuated his narrow waist. Turning his face and noticing Yuuri staring at him, Yuuri embarrassedly turned away and smoked the last of his cigarette. Viktor walked over to Yuuri, who turned to look at him again. Leaning down so that they were at equal eye level, Viktor said, “I think that it’s important to keep trying, no matter how frustrated you get. It’s okay to fail, but don’t just lay down and let it destroy you. Get up and fight what frustrates you.” 

Feeling flustered and no longer angry, Yuuri nervously stamped out his cigarette and said, “T-Thank you, Viktor…” 

Viktor was getting closer and closer to Yuuri, staring deeply into his eyes and running his long, slender fingers through his thick, wiry, brown hair. His eyes weren’t that of lust or desire, but comfort and affection, which was exactly what Yuuri needed. He moved closer to Viktor, indulging in how he rubbed his scalp and how quickly it relaxed him. Viktor pulled him close, planting a gentle smooch on his forehead. Yuuri felt a blush creep up on his face, but not overwhelm him. He wanted to bottle this moment and drink it whenever he felt stressed or anxious, but again attempted to ingrain these feelings into his memories. 

“Now, how about those pastries?” Viktor asked excitedly, moving them both toward the sliding glass door of Yuuri’s apartment as he had been waiting in anticipation of the freshly baked croissants that he _had_ to buy on his way over. (The smell drew him in, practically forcing him to purchase them. He had no choice, he said.) 

Together, he and Yuuri shared coffee and pastries, Yuuri closing his laptop and accepting his failure as a passing event, and soaking in the love that Viktor oozed all throughout his smoke-soaked apartment. As he munched on the croissant, Yuuri let Viktor detail the Café repairs as he basked in Viktor’s loving glow. He realized that Viktor always met him where he was, allowing him the space to mend his own wounds but giving what he needed to do so. Inside of him, he felt something bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE i think that my exam went pretty well! fingers crossed that i studied well enough hehehe 
> 
> thank you all so much for your kind words!!!! i really do appreciate the kudos and the comments. i read them all :-) i hope that you all enjoy reading this!!! 
> 
> follow me on twitter! @isaBELLUH97
> 
> update 11/4: wow! 1k hits! i'm really emotional right now! thank you all so, so, so, so much from the very bottom of my heart. it is so validating having so many people read something i put a lot of love and thought into. i hold your kudos and your comments and your views close to my heart. thank you. next chapter will be up soon! i have 2 exams coming up this week ㅠㅠ


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor and yuuri fall even harder for each other

Viktor and Yuuri kept each other at a comfortable length during the last part of Yuuri’s undergraduate career. He was intensely focused on school and wanted to make his last semester the best one yet, and Viktor wanted to respect his dedication to school, knowing that it was easy for him to urge Yuuri out for drinks or for him to come over for dinner since he had been out of school for so long and had since forgotten the stress that Yuuri was feeling. He was sure to send reassuring text messages and funny photos whenever possible, as he wanted to be even closer to Yuuri, but would simply have to wait. He couldn’t quite articulate it yet, but his affection toward Yuuri was steadfast and seemingly infinite, and that he’d do more than just waiting if it meant that he got to enjoy his comforting presence and gain inspiration from his dedication. However, Viktor had also been saving something for he and Yuuri, only to be revealed after he finished his finals. 

Viktor had been sitting on them for about a month at this point, and thought it not too extravagant, but enough for he and Yuuri to really enjoy time with each other out of Detroit. Browsing around on his phone one night, Viktor found a suspiciously good deal for plane tickets to Chicago. He knew that Chicago was a strange place to take someone that you had only been seeing for three months, and worried that the gesture may be too much for Yuuri. But, Viktor had been itching to get out of Detroit and see something new, and thought that Yuuri might want to see something new, too. Especially after only seeing the inside of a library cubby for the past 3 weeks. 

When Yuuri finished his last final, he rushed out of the building and wanted to scream. He had _finally_ finished. After the incident with his midterm paper, he buckled down and ended up getting grades much better than he expected. His parents couldn’t come to his graduation, but that was fine. He was just happy to be done. The graduation was just a formality anyway, a tangible way for him to close his time in Detroit. He had his diploma addressed to his family’s hot spring in Hasetsu. He had sent out job applications to schools, psychiatry offices, and health insurance companies in both Japan and Detroit, trying not to keep his options limited. As he scurried (almost galloping) to Viktor’s apartment, he suddenly felt the weight of his affection for Viktor land on his shoulders. He had been so concerned with finishing school that he hadn’t thought about what he would do about Viktor. He liked Viktor, and he liked him _a lot_. But, they had only been seeing each other for about three months, not long enough to move in together, but long enough that he didn’t want to stop seeing Viktor. They were becoming more and more close, finally realizing that they both understood each other in ways that people they’d seen in the past had failed to. They hesitated to say that they loved the other, but knew that they saw through the romance of a burgeoning relationship. 

Arriving at Viktor’s apartment, shaking the thoughts from his head, he heard Viktor’s footsteps as he excitedly ran to the door and opened it up wide. His face was glowing, a big smile plastered on his face, and Yuuri, his hand still up as if to knock on the door, immediately tried to figure out what the cause for Viktor’s excitement was. Dragging him in, Viktor practically threw him on the couch and stood before him, one hand on his hip and the other hiding something behind his back. 

“Your graduation isn’t for another two weeks, right?” Viktor asked, vibrating in place with anticipation. Feeling his brows curl in confusion, Yuuri confirmed that his graduation was in two weeks. 

“Did you plan to do anything in those two weeks?” 

“Well… no… I guess just relax?” 

Putting his foot right up on the couch next to Yuuri and pulling his arm out from behind him, Viktor put two tickets in front of Yuuri’s face. 

“Come to Chicago with me!” He shouted, looking satisfied to have _finally_ told Yuuri about the surprise he was sitting on. 

Surprised, Yuuri took one of the tickets in his hand. The times for the flights weren’t in conflict with his graduation, and he hadn’t seen Chicago before, despite living in Detroit for four years. After a long pause, Viktor looking like he might explode if Yuuri didn’t say anything, he asked, “really?” 

“Yes, really! I haven’t seen Chicago before, and the tickets were dirt cheap!” Viktor was shining almost as bright as the sun, the beginnings of his thinning hairline making his forehead catch the light and brighten his expression. A smile growing on his face, Yuuri stood up next to Viktor and grabbed his hand. He wanted to go, even if he did move back to Japan, even if he didn’t get to be with Viktor as long as he wanted. He just knew that he wanted Viktor’s time now, while he could have it. “I’ll go with you.” 

Viktor jumped with excitement and enveloped Yuuri with a big hug, his strong arms taking in Yuuri’s delicate frame, his shirt’s fabric rubbing against Yuuri’s cheek and his shoulders pushing Yuuri’s glasses almost off of his face. Feeling those feelings of doubt and unease subside, Yuuri hugged Viktor back, wanting nothing more than to be with him.

**  
When they got to Chicago, unbeknownst to the other, they had been looking up the best bars in the city. Viktor hadn’t gone out drinking in a tragically long time, and Yuuri wanted to let loose. They decided, though, to settle into their hotel room before doing anything else. There were two beds, since they hadn’t spent the night together since the time that Viktor took a drunk Yuuri to his apartment after finding him stumbling around in Detroit, and they weren’t quite yet comfortable with sleeping together. They didn’t talk about it, though. Many things remained unspoken between them, but it wasn’t a source of discomfort. They allowed those things to sprout organically between them. 

As they lay on their beds, Yuuri teetering on the edge of sleep, Viktor was staring at his phone, casually browsing through his social media. He looked over to a sleeping Yuuri, looking peaceful and serene, and then noticed his phone vibrate in his hands. It was a call from his Mother, which was not… typical. Picking up, he answered in English without thinking about it. His mother responded in Russian, which he immediately picked up on. The tone in his mother’s voice was angry and low, awakening in Viktor a childlike fear of her. He felt like he was in trouble and, for a second, forgot that he was a 28-year-old man. 

“[What do you think you’re doing messing around with that boy?]” She asked him, referring to a tame post that Viktor had made in which he posted a photo of he and Yuuri, the caption telling others that they were visiting Chicago. 

“[What, I’m not allowed to take trips, now?]” Viktor replied, not wanting his mother to overpower him. 

“[You need to get it together. Think about a career, a family. You shouldn’t be traipsing around with some young man and managing a coffee shop. We came here so that you could have a better life, not so that you could waste it doing something you could do back in Russia.]” 

Pausing, Viktor swallowed the lump in his throat. He had always been nervous when it came to his relationships, as they had been primarily with men, much to the dismay of his parents. It was only about once or twice a year that they aired their grievances toward their son’s supposed shortcomings, when in reality, Viktor was much more well off than he had been in the past five years that he lived in Detroit. Now, growing angry, Viktor retaliated. 

“[Why don’t you get it?]” He shouted, not noticing that he woke Yuuri. Viktor was standing now, his hand gripping his forehead and pushing his hair back. “[You can’t just call me every six months and tell me how unhappy you are with me. What have I asked for from you and Dad? Huh?]” He asked, calmly but sternly. He never wanted to blow up on his mom, but he got closer and closer with each call she made to him. Yuuri was groggily rubbing his eyes, turning toward Viktor and trying to figure out what was going on since, he didn’t speak Russian. He gathered that it was probably not good, though, based on Viktor’s tone and brooding presence over their beds. 

“[That doesn’t mean you’re not my son, Vitya. Do you know what people think when they see you acting like this?]” Holding the receiver away from his mouth and covering it with his hand, Viktor put his head back and let out a deep sigh, almost groaning, as he thought Yuuri was still asleep. 

“[You’re wasting your time thinking that I will ever be what you want me to be. I am happy in Detroit, and I happen to like this person that you think I’m traipsing around with. It’d be less effort for you and everyone else in New York if you just accepted me for who and what I am.]”  
Pausing, his mother didn’t reply. Viktor was ready for whatever she may have said next, but instead, she hung up. Pulling the phone away from his ear, Viktor felt his face tense with anger. Tossing his phone on his bed, Viktor sat on its edge and put his face in his hands. He let out a quiet “[Fuck!]” that turned into a groan, then flopping backwards onto his bed, arms spread out. His eyes were closed tightly, almost as if he were trying to force himself out of a dream. 

Sliding out of bed, Yuuri walked over and sat next to Viktor. His clothes were crumpled from sleeping, but he didn’t really care. 

“Are you okay? It didn’t sound like you were having a pleasant conversation.” 

His face becoming neutral, Viktor turned toward Yuuri and then shot up to look at him. He didn’t look as if he was just arguing with someone on the phone, but perhaps he didn’t want to talk about it. Yuuri trusted that Viktor would talk about it if he wanted, and felt reassured by his genuine smile. 

“I’ll be better later. Do you want to go now?” Viktor asked, referring to the plans they made on the plane to Chicago. Yawning, Yuuri said “Yes, please.”  
**

When they arrived to the bar, Viktor and Yuuri knew that they made the right choice. It was busy, being a Friday night, but not so much that Viktor and Yuuri couldn’t enjoy themselves. They bought drinks, conversing at the bar much like they had whenever they shared dinner, except this time, drinking a little bit more than usual and feeling their inhibitions quickly dissipate. Noticing a small crowd form away from the bar, Viktor urged Yuuri to dance with him. 

“You did figure skating, right? You must know how to dance!” Viktor urged, Yuuri wanting nothing more than to waste away in his seat and drink another beer. Viktor seemed particularly excited to be out tonight, perhaps wanting to release steam after fighting earlier. Begrudgingly, Yuuri left his seat, drinking the last portion of his beer and leaving the bottle at his seat. Viktor excitedly drew him into the crowd, and began leading him in a sort of ballroom waltz? Yuuri was well versed in ballet and other kinds of dancing, but hadn’t done any sort of waltz since he was in high school. He felt the moves slowly coming back to him, realizing that people were staring in wonder with how Viktor and Yuuri moved in sync with one another, as if they had been dance partners for years. Yuuri thought it an interesting juxtaposition to the other people in the bar, who were dancing with no clear motive but with a sort of grace that comes with being drunk. Yuuri and Viktor’s surprisingly calculated moves, unbecoming of two inebriated men, wowed the crowds that formed around them.

Feeling embarrassed, but suddenly looking at the glee in Viktor’s face, he felt his fears melt away as he pushed himself closer to Viktor’s chest. Viktor moved his hand further down Yuuri’s waist and pulled him even closer, their faces nearly touching. Viktor and Yuuri felt their hot, alcohol-laden breaths on each other’s faces, their bodies shaking and panting with eagerness, pupils dilated and chests heaving as the crowds clapped for them. Yuuri felt his face suddenly grow hot with embarrassment, but smiled big and wide despite it. Viktor, looking down at Yuuri, could feel something explode within him. Was it love? Was it lust? Whatever it was, he knew he wanted Yuuri. He loved how it felt to hold him, to dance with him, to feel his hot, sticky breath cling to his cheek and neck. He wanted to pick Yuuri off of the ground, carry him back to their hotel room and have him for himself. But, seeing Yuuri’s beet red face, decided that he ought to put those feelings on the backburner. This was all for Yuuri, and Viktor wanted to give him the world. 

**  
Stumbling out of the bar, laughing and clinging to each other like bumbling idiots, Viktor and Yuuri navigated the Chicago streets back to their hotel room, each letting the fluorescent lights and smoke laden air to soak into their skin as they drank in each other. Not feeling at all embarrassed for their volume, they somehow got to their hotel room, laughing loudly as they both searched for their room keys. Carrying the other into the room, rudely letting their door slam to the amusement of both, Viktor and Yuuri collapsed on one of the two beds. They didn’t realize how tightly they had been holding each other as they struggled to get off their shoes and place their phones in a safe spot. When settled, noticing the lack of space between them, they found themselves staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Viktor moved his hands down Yuuri’s back, pulling him closer to him, their waists touching one another. Yuuri, looked up and down Viktor’s beautiful, beautiful face, the one he had spent so much time staring at whenever he went to the coffee shop that brought them together. 

Feeling nothing short of a drunken euphoria, and overcome with desire, Yuuri was the one to close the space between them. His lips soft and face freshly shaven, Yuuri wanted the essence of Viktor in his veins, he wanted to absorb him and his beauty, the way that he navigates the world with his strong body, his beautiful Russian accent, all of it. Surprised, Viktor quickly pulled back and looked at Yuuri. “Is this okay?” he asked, knowing that though they were both sloppily drunk, he was the soberest of the two and held some kind of responsibility. Breathily, Yuuri responded with an affirmative yes. With this confirmation, Viktor pulled Yuuri's t-shirt with a rough, uncaring fist, bringing them together again in a sloppy, warm kiss. 

Something burst inside of them that night. The relationship between the two that had been sprouting slowly, but surely, blossomed into a strong, vivacious peony of love that the other craved for years. Navigating the world, dissatisfied with themselves and with others, they found in each other inspiration, validation and satisfaction. They could understand each other’s feelings and emotions much like a scientist understands their lab, navigating it with an intimacy known only between them and their surroundings. Rubbing their hands on one another, they felt their skin electrify as if it were a shared organ, wanting desperately to absorb the other person and feel this kind of ecstasy always, always, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg 1k hits!!! thank you all so much!!!!!! i hope that you all enjoy this chapter, because i think this one is, officially, my favorite. 
> 
> i appreciate all of your support! if i did some kind of one-shot contest would u all be interested? lmk! 
> 
> follow me on twitter! @isaBELLUH97
> 
> edit: sorry for the typos!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we learn about yuuri's past

Yuuri smoked his first cigarette when he was sixteen. He was home alone, and too curious for his own good. His sister, five years his senior, had snuck cigarettes as a teenager and hid them (poorly) from Yuuri and the rest of their family, but began buying them regularly when she was twenty. Now 21, she smoked freely and openly around her family, both inside and out of the house. Yuuri was fascinated with figuring out exactly what it was about cigarettes that appealed to her so much, and too afraid to ask (though, upon reflection, realized that this was the most obvious choice) decided to investigate it himself. He had seen the way she pulled it out, lifted it to her mouth and lit it, so second nature to her that she did it with the same ease as one breathed or lifted a finger. 

Sneaking into Mari’s room, knowing that he ought to be quickly in and out, he stole a single cigarette from a stray box that sat on her night stand. He went out behind their house, away from guests and away from the potential for someone to walk in on him, Yuuri lifted the cigarette to his mouth, feeling his core tremble with nervousness. He lit the cigarette, the smell of nicotine immediately swirling around him, and took a breath in. The feeling of smoke in his mouth, somehow occupying space despite its being air, confused him as he opened his mouth to release it. The cigarette still close to his mouth as he blew the air from it, the smoke quickly rose up and into his nose. He didn’t cough, but felt as if he was drowning. The way that the burnt nicotine stuck to his tongue felt strange, at first, but when he took another drag, began to like it. The cigarette itself had a strange fruity scent, but when lit, smelt decadent and smoky. He didn’t finish the cigarette, despite knowing how wasteful he had been, but felt vaguely relaxed, not knowing that he would chase that feeling of relaxation even after he started smoking regularly. 

Living in Detroit, of all the people he missed deeply back home, Yuuri missed his sister the most. They were always close to each other, though not spending much time with one another. Similar to what Viktor and Yuuri shared, Mari and Yuuri also had a quiet understanding of the other between them. When they both came out to each other, Mari revealing to Yuuri that she was a lesbian and Yuuri explaining that he believed he may be bisexual, though not entirely sure, they created a bond between them of safety and understanding. It’s not that there was a deficit of this within the Katsuki family, but that the absence of fear doesn’t necessarily imply safety. 

Yuuri had seen his sister spending time with other girls her age, but thought nothing of it, until he knocked on her door one day. Eanting to ask a question about an essay he was writing for school, he noticed that the knob was locked, but the door itself had been mistakingly left ajar. Yuuri only 13 and Mari 18, there was gentle music playing on an old CD Boombox as Yuuri saw his sister and this other girl gingerly kissing one another, not touching each other, but likely exploring what the feeling of each other’s lips were. It didn’t seem at all romantic to Yuuri, but Mari quickly turned, her entire body glowing a bright red, and slammed the door. Yuuri didn’t dare tell his parents, as they had both trusted each other with one another’s secrets. That, and Yuuri wanted to reserve the right to have another person in his room, too, if it ever came to that. (It didn’t, as he was incredibly shy through junior and high school.)

The weeks following, Mari didn’t dare bring her friend back to their house, their parents questioning her absence and Mari daftly diverting the conversation elsewhere, usually to Yuuri’s schoolwork. Mari and Yuuri didn’t speak of the incident until much later, when Yuuri was 17 and Mari was 22. Yuuri had been smoking regularly now, enlisting the help of older friends to buy cigarettes for him every couple of weeks, and was sitting on his porch in the house that he thought he was alone in. Mari walked outside, quietly leaning on the doorframe, relishing in how her little brother had taken up smoking, thinking that she didn’t notice his obsessive hand washing. Wanting to scare him, Mari was disappointed when Yuuri didn’t act at all surprised that she had snuck up on him. It seemed like he was wallowing, but in what? 

Leaning down next to him, Yuuri was staring off into the distance, up and over the steamy hot springs. His legs were hanging over the edge, his head resting on his arms, which sat atop the first of two rails. His eyes were red and puffy, bags dark and expression farouche, uncharacteristic of his otherwise jovial, healthy demeanor. 

“Y-Yuuri… are you okay?” 

Letting out a puff of smoke, not looking at his sister, Yuuri responded, “We never talked about that time I walked in on you and your friend a couple of years back.” 

“W-What are you talking about?” She asked, knowing exactly what he was talking about, but wanting desperately to avoid reliving the embarrassment she felt then. 

“You know what I’m talking about. She came over all the time and then, when I saw you both, she stopped coming over.” 

“I… Uh… Well, you know…” Mari stammered. 

Turning to Mari, Yuuri continued, “And, you know that I don’t need anyone to walk me to Minako’s studio, but yet you insist on taking me.” 

Suddenly feeling the tides shift, her stomach turning with her brother’s obvious insinuation, but not sure why the inflection of his tone was more sullen than it was incriminating, she responded, “I think that you know how to answer that, Yuuri…” She sat down next to him, looking at his face, wondering what was bothering him so much. Normally, when something bothered him, he was open with explaining what it was, but it seemed like he was carefully calculating what he was about to say. As he opened his mouth to talk, he closed his mouth, his eyes shutting tight and on the brink of tears. He sat quietly with his hands over his face next to his sister, a word not exchanged between the two of them, but Mari suddenly realizing why Yuuri was asking about her friend whose name she’s since forgotten, and seeing through the ruse she tried to keep up for so long when she escorted him to the studio. 

It all came to her at once. Though she initially felt like she had some kind of upper hand for noticing Yuuri’s habit of smoking, she couldn’t _believe_ that she hadn’t noticed anything else. That’s not to say that some things she noticed in her brother went ignored, treated as strange, inconsequential happenings that would make no impact on their lives. She just hadn’t connected them until his questioning of her sexuality. He was asking about hers in order to understand his own, she thought, since he was typically reserved and tended to isolate himself from others in times of stress and anxiety. She connected the longing stares at the server at a restaurant they frequented and his strange overconsumption of water; the way that his eyes traced the curves of other skaters in their rink, though not lustfully, but like the way an artist admires a painting, translating its meaning within their own life, noting the curves and the colors and the contours of its subject; the way that he blushed and averted his eyes whenever scantily clad guests asked him for a new towel or a cup of tea; without saying anything, Mari understood. That was the wonderful thing about Yuuri—a lot about him could be understood without him saying anything. But, nevertheless, Mari slapped her hand against her head, groaning loudly, a combination of guilt and embarrassment coating her voice. Yuuri shot up, surprised, and looked at her with his big doe eyes. 

“Why didn’t you just _tell_ me, Yuuri?! Have you been that anxious about it?” 

His voice shaking, he crushed his cigarette into the ground and replied, “I was hoping that you noticed, that maybe you understood without my saying it, I guess.” 

“People like us in a town like this tend to protect themselves first before helping others. I’m sorry if that caused you any stress…” 

Rubbing his eyes and looking at her briefly, then looking away once again, a calm washed over him. Mari knew that he wouldn’t want to talk about anything in detail, and though she wanted desperately to talk about it, she respected the space that he worked tirelessly to maintain around himself, the layer with which he protects himself against the world. However, it was Viktor that was able to penetrate that barrier in a way that Mari failed to. It wasn’t any personal shortcoming, but simply that her experiences and feelings toward her sexuality were different from Yuuri’s, letting her closer than most others, but not quite as close as Viktor.  
**

The next day, Yuuri was awakened by a throbbing headache and lurching stomach. He slid out of bed, holding his stomach and shuffling to the bathroom to retch in the toilet. He lay with his face on the cold, refreshing rim of the bowl, now thoroughly awake and quickly recollecting the events of the night prior. He wiped his mouth with toilet paper, flushed the toilet, rinsed his face and brushed his teeth. He walked back out into their hotel room, noticing one bed was still perfectly made. A shiver slithered up and around Yuuri’s spine, to which he realized that he and Viktor had shared a bed the night before. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Yuuri decided to migrate back to the open bed. Not able to fall back asleep, Viktor still soundly so in the bed next to him, Yuuri lay on his side and look in Viktor’s direction. Though his memory was foggy, he knew that he and Viktor has kissed one another. That was, undeniably, something that not even alcohol could force him to forget. As he lay still, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Viktor’s strong chest, the thought of leaving him crawled back into his mind. He knew that he’d have to deal with this eventually, and knowing that he and Viktor were well beyond the point of an amicable separation. Though, Yuuri felt himself falling in love with him, and knew that Viktor surely wasn’t the type of person to resent him for whatever decision he may make. But, even still, the possibility that he _may_ haunted Yuuri as he continued to avoid the issue. 

In the middle of this mental conversation, Yuuri’s phone rang. It was his sister. She would probably be cleaning up after the guests’ dinners at this point, he thought as he did he mental math of time zone differences in his head. 

“[Yuuri, how are you?]” she asked, her tone as calm and cool as usual. "[I was cleaning up some tables just now and an _entire_ table bought katsudon. It reminded me of you. Isn't that funny?]"

Looking over to Viktor, his anxieties about their relationship quickly leaving the forefront of his mind, he sighed with a deep satisfaction and felt a sleepy smile grow on his face. He then laughed, and, now switching to Japanese, replied “[I’m great.]”, followed by a short pause. He then asked, suddenly, “[Do you remember when I told you about that coffee shop guy I had a silly crush on that I recently started seeing?]” 

“[Yeah, why?]” she asked back. Yuuri could hear the clinking of glasses and dishes in the background, and the occasional inquisitive shout. Not letting Yuuri answer, she said at just above a whisper, “[Oh my God, you slept with him!]” 

“[No, no, no!]” Yuuri exclaimed back, wanting to keep quiet as to not wake Viktor. “[He took me to Chicago when I finished my finals last week. We went out clubbing, got really drunk, and… we made out in our hotel room. I barely remember it all, if I’m being honest.]” 

“[Really?!]” Mari replied, shouting now, seeming more excited at Yuuri’s answer than the one he may have given to her first question. “[He kissed you?]” 

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Yuuri’s finger scratching at his face, he replied, “[No, I kissed him.]” 

Though she was trying to keep quiet, she let out an excited screech, the phone quickly going quiet after as she told others around her that, no, she wasn’t going to be quiet. “[You’re joking!]” 

“[I’m surprised, too! I didn’t know that I had it in me…]” 

Pausing to scream back at the people telling her to quiet down, obviously lying about why she was screaming, Yuuri felt himself smile. He missed his sister, how excited she was for him whenever things like this happened to Yuuri. 

“[Mari, can I ask you something?]” 

Calmly, her demeanor quickly changing to meet his, Mari said, “[What’s wrong?]” He heard her shuffling, closing a door behind her. 

“[I’m graduating in a week or so, but I don’t know if I should stay with Viktor.]” 

“[What are you talking about? Is it that serious?]”

“[Well, no, but I really, _really_ like him. I don’t know if I should stay and work in Detroit or Ann Arbor or some place here, or if I should come home.]” 

Sucking in air between her cheeks, she paused to think for a moment. “[Obviously, talk to _him_ about it, but you don’t really have to make any decisions until after you graduate. Right?]” 

Thinking for a moment, and looking back to Viktor, who had begun stirring in his bed and rubbing his eyes, Yuuri agreed. His sister’s calculated words brought comfort to Yuuri, who often had trouble parsing through his frantic thoughts when faced with a decision like this. Keeping his voice down, Yuuri replied, “[Thanks, Mari! I love you. I’ll be home to visit soon.]” 

“[We miss you! Congrats on finishing college!]” She said in reply, hanging up the phone. The nausea that her call distracted from entered up and through his stomach, sitting within his gut, the threat of it leaving his mouth still possible. 

“Who were you talking to?” Viktor asked, propping himself up on his arms and rubbing his face, his sleepy face and messy hair uncharacteristic of his typically composed, finely detailed appearance. Getting out of his bed and walking toward Viktor, he replied, “My sister called to ask how I was doing.” 

“Oh, how sweet!” he said, his eyes closed and smile weak, but nevertheless warm and inviting. On the side of the bed, Yuuri and Viktor felt a new closeness between them, one that made them feel as though they had known each other their entire lives. They finally felt the physical boundaries that inhibited them before finally come down, now lying in bed with one another comfortably, the pieces of each other fitting perfectly into the other. Though Yuuri feared the worst, his anxiety perching on his shoulder like a vulture, espousing negativities into his ear whether or not he wanted, he relished in the warmth of Viktor’s body, the way that his hand rested comfortably on his waist and invited him closer and closer, the way his head fell back when he laughed. For a second, though he wouldn’t dare say it aloud, he wanted to tell Viktor just how much he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading!!! :~) I've been trying to make the chapters progressively longer, so please let me know if you want me to keep them at about this length if you read regularly!
> 
> follow me on twitter! @isaBELLUH97
> 
> update: aaAAAAAAAA IM SO SORRY i just straight up didn't attach the first part of this chapter? for some reason? I'M SO SORRY IF YOU WERE CONFUSED ABOUT WHY I WAS SUDDENLY TALKING ABOUT YUURI'S SISTER AAHHHHHH PLEASE FORGIVE MEEEEE


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we lean about viktor's past, and yuuri and viktor are forced to consider the future
> 
>  

Viktor began smoking at the tender age of 15. It was normal place in his family to smoke, even around kids. It wasn’t an inherently Russian trait, he just happened to be born to a family of smokers. Sitting with his grandfather one day, casually watching television, he pulled out a cigarette for himself. Looking at his carton, and over to Viktor, he asked, “[You want one?]” Taken aback, Viktor pondered the cigarette in front of him for a moment. He knew that he had to be 18 to smoke in America, but if his grandpa is offering, then maybe it’s okay? However, the experience was lackluster. The feeling of nicotine in his nose and lungs wasn’t new, but the act of lighting the cigarette himself and blowing the air away was what kept him coming back. Though he didn’t start smoking regularly until he was in his twenties, Viktor loved the nostalgic feeling he got whenever he did smoke. It was relaxing, the ritual of taking out a cigarette and lighting it, and he loved the fond memories he had of his family. Though they were often in fundamental disagreement with each other, Viktor still cared for his family deeply. It was the times when they weren’t arguing and bickering that he remembered when he let the burning nicotine swirl around his head. 

When Viktor moved to New York City for the first time, escaping upstate New York, he began working so that he could support himself while he was at University. He had made the decision after a particularly bitter fight between he and his family, all of them urging Viktor to consider a different course of study and that he had no business moving out at such a young age. But, Viktor longed to see what lie out of his small, backwards town. He wanted to meet other people like him, to live in a microcosmic world where he felt he belonged, though he knew well how isolated some people felt when they lived there. But, in a way, he liked the isolation and the anonymity. He could go on a date with someone one night and then never see them again, which thrilled him, strangely. 

Similarly to how he is sought out at his Café, Viktor was the star server at the restaurant he worked at. His hair long and flowing, tied up nearly in a ponytail, he charmed customers without even really trying to. Not only was his service impeccable, but customers felt special whenever they were around him, though he did not treat them much different than a struggling college student who wants a decent tip would. On the weekends, he had many regulars some in and request that he serve their tables. Frustrated, but ready to have a hearty meal after collecting their always-generous tips, he would be in and out of the back of house for hours, his calves and feet burning at the ends of some nights. When his tables were slow, in the middle of eating and conversing, he snuck outside to devour a cigarette, wanting desperately to feel relaxed. 

Sneaking out the back door, leaning against the garbage can that faced the street in the alley next to the restaurant, Viktor quickly pulled out and lit a cigarette. The smoke filling his mouth, then blowing it out and letting it seep up his nose, he almost liked the strange feeling that it gave him. After this initial drag, especially on these kinds of nights, Viktor would suck down the cigarette comically fast. One drag would burn almost a quarter to half of the cigarette, reducing it to ash before one even realized that someone around them was smoking. When his manager or fellow servers would call out to him that he had orders coming in, he’d smile at them, throwing the cigarette on the ground and running back inside. 

One night, though, had always stood out to him. It was an atypically slow night in the middle of winter during Viktor’s last semester as an undergrad. On nights like this, he liked to spend more time talking to his tables and getting to know them. He often found interesting people passing through his town and loved to hear their stories. It made him feel more connected to the world around him. One such customer came in, alone, and sat toward the back of the restaurant. It looked as though he was grading a stack of papers as Viktor brought him a mug of coffee. He gave Viktor a distracted “Thank You”, almost shooing but obviously fighting against his frustration. Instead of leaving, Viktor peered over and looked at the stack of papers that were littered with red markings. He recognized some of the terms on the paper, but suddenly realized that the man was staring bullets into Viktor. 

“You need somethin’?” He asked, coffee mug right below his sullen, gray face. 

“N-No!” he replied, flashing him his best smile. “I just… recognized some of those terms from my own studies.” He felt goosebumps go up and down his spine with embarrassment. 

“You’re a student? What are you studying?” 

“Yes, I am! I’m studying speech communication and rhetoric.” He felt sweat begin to bead on his back against his will, not at all liking how this man was staring him down. He had put his pen down now and rested his head in his hands. 

“What year are you?” 

“Oh, I’m about to graduate, sir.” 

Looking away for a moment, then back at Viktor, “Do you plan on working here after you graduate?” 

_Is he about to offer me a job?_ Viktor asked himself, holding back his preemptive glee at the possibility of getting a job outside of retail. 

“Well, ideally, no… but money is money.”

He gave a gentle but gruff _hm…_ and started scribbling on a sheet of paper. Handing it to him, he said, “I need some teaching assistants in the fall. Go ahead and send me your resume soon. It’s all the way in Detroit, though. Are you okay with moving?” 

His face lighting up and a big smile erupting from his face, Viktor clutched the piece of paper. “Yes, yes! That’s perfect!” 

The man gave a short chortle and an affirming grin, promptly looking back down at his papers. Viktor gave a nervous “Thank you!” as he walked away and into the kitchen. He shouted with glee, nearly slipping on the layers of grease that lived on the tile floors as he jumped up and down. 

Viktor had always found that the best things in his life fell into his lap. That didn’t mean something was good if it didn’t fall into his lap, but that the surprise that came with something so unexpected made it that much more meaningful. Yuuri was no exception to this rule. He complimented Viktor's sometimes harsh but otherwise joyful personality in ways that he didn't think possible. Being with Yuuri made him realize parts of himself that he ignored for so long, and he wanted to clutch those feelings forever and ever.  
**  
“I didn’t know that you taught here?” Yuuri inquired over lunch that day. “I had always wondered why you moved to Detroit from New York.” 

“He was a pretty good professor, but his exams were hard. I was his assistant for about a two years, but then I kind of grew bored with it. Then, I saw that the café was hiring, so I applied, and here we are.” 

Still wondering how to explain to Viktor his own job predicament, Yuuri turned away from him, hoping that his staring into the distance didn’t show his anxiety. But Viktor was not none the wiser. He had sensed that something was different with Yuuri since they got to Chicago, but after last night, he began to look more and more as if he was searching for something. Yuuri was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so Viktor had to be the one to ask. 

“Is everything okay, Yuuri? Do you not feel well?” 

Lifting his head out of his palm, Yuuri paused before he replied, akin to how he was when they first met. “I’m… okay. Just anxious about what comes after graduation.” He smiled weakly, obviously more overcome with anxiety than he was letting on. Taking the hand that Yuuri sat on the table, Viktor urged him further. 

“If there’s something wrong, you can tell me.” 

And, so he did, despite originally planning to hold off until after graduation. Though Yuuri was fully aware of how his anxiety was affecting his decisions, he just couldn’t shake the thoughts that surrounded him. It was now or never. 

Back in their hotel room, sitting across from each other on the small, uncomfortable and ugly couch next to a small coffee table, Yuuri opened up about his worries. How he had been applying to jobs in Tokyo and Detroit, not sure if he should stay close or go home to see his family that he so desperately missed. He explained that he knew they hadn’t been together long, but that he didn’t want to get more attached if he was just going to leave. That if he got a job offer he couldn’t refuse, that they should just end it now to be safe. 

Viktor understood the feeling of being pushed into a corner by one’s own desires, but couldn’t parse through them and empathize with Yuuri in that moment. He wasn’t overcome with heartbreak the way that he had been before, but it was like a crack in his spirit. He hadn’t _ever_ felt as close to anyone as he did with Yuuri. The lonely years he spent with people who found him frustrating or worthy of one night stands had made him feel isolated from the rest of the world. He thought that maybe, with Yuuri, things would be different. Not believing it fully, but the fear nevertheless present, Viktor let out a quiet, remorseful laugh. He felt embarrassed that tears started to pool in his eyes. 

Yuuri, now noticeably distressed but physically calm, leaned down toward Viktor. He took a gentle hand and lifted the bangs off of his face, revealing his bright blue eyes even more blue through the tears. Racked with guilt, he gently moved the hair away from Viktor’s face, feeling like he was seeing something not meant for anyone else. 

“V-Viktor…” he said, beginning to speak and attempt to explain himself. “I didn’t think that you would react like this… I’m sorry.” 

“Well, I’m upset, okay?”

“Upset? Why?”

“It feels like you’re trying to leave me.” 

Taken aback, Yuuri jumped up with surprise. “What?! No! I just… I just wanted to be realistic… I mean, I don’t know what my future holds. I didn’t want to put you in a bad position.”

His face sullen, not angry but sad, disappointed, Viktor wiped his eyes with the palm of his fist. He knew that he was overreacting. Yuuri’s expectations were _completely_ reasonable, and in fact, he quite appreciated that Yuuri had thought about them so much. Had Viktor been given the choice of leaving Yuuri abruptly with any job offer he receives, or taking the time to assess what they had culminated between them right now, he would gladly choose the latter. He hurt, but he knew he’d hurt more if he chose the former. 

“First my Mom, and now you…” he mumbled to himself, laughing with dejection. He used the tips of his fingers to wipe off his cheeks, then exclaiming how much he was crying. 

“What happened with your Mom?” Yuuri inquired, thinking that maybe this was what happened the night before when he was shouting on the phone. 

Sniffling and taking a deep breath, looking at Yuuri with a frustrated expression, he explained; “She and my Dad love to call me and tell me about how many things I’m doing wrong every once in a while. I can’t be with this person, I should be in this field doing this job, I should move back home and start a family.” He paused, grimacing as he explained what was something he didn’t enjoy telling others about. “I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could find some inspiration to bring into my life that wasn’t the type which my parents forced unto me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I love you, Yuuri! Don’t you get it?” He exclaimed this, taking Yuuri’s face in his hands. “You’re always urging me to be myself, you don’t try to change who I am, and you don’t let _me_ change who _I_ am.” He paused, placing his hands at his side, his aura forlorn and far away from Yuuri. “I won’t stop you if you go. I have no right to. I just wish that you would reconsider.” 

“You… love me?” He said in disbelief, immediately kicking himself for not giving the right response, which would have been to say it back. He had been waiting so, so long to tell Viktor. The teenager inside of him screamed to slow down, that it was preposterous to proclaim your love for someone after such a short amount of time. But, being the ages that they were, Viktor and Yuuri enjoyed the unspoken privileges of adulthood that bestowed upon them experiences which could help them parse through someone’s affection for them in a sagely fashion. In other words, it had been love at first sight. It always had been. But Yuuri didn’t know how to say it. 

As he said this, Viktor got up to walk toward the window to stare out. He looked back to Yuuri expectantly, the look of pain in his eyes only deepening the blue there. Then, turning back quickly, he left their hotel room, closing the door quietly behind him. Yuuri didn’t know what to say, it was usually Viktor who was comforting him and, now that Yuuri was in the position of comforter, he failed. He failed miserably. He knew how he _felt_ , but had no filter with which to communicate them to Viktor. They pooled in the base of his throat, wanting desperately to pour out but having no proper spigot with which to do so. Yuuri stayed sitting in the position for what felt like forever. He didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. This would survive as one of Yuuri's biggest regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hgjgjffjf this chapter was so hard to write. you can tell i read a lot of murakami novels b/c there's so much smoking and love isn't truly meaningful until they are faced with separation. also, i've always been really fascinated with how anxiety is portrayed in YOI, and wanted to try and use my own understanding of my own anxiety and the anxieties of others to build Yuuri's character and understand how his relationships work. (hint hint, it will get better!) 
> 
> as always, thank you all for reading. i love you all so much! please please please let me know what you think. i take to heart everything that you all say and want to make this a good experience for everyone. I don't like writing just for myself if i know that others are enjoying it. 
> 
> follow me on twitter! @isaBELLUH97


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor and yuuri reconcile what it means to be intertwined with the one that they love

Viktor lost track of time when he meandered around the city. He did some of the things he wanted to do with Yuuri, sad that he wasn’t there, but more sad that so much had been left unsaid. It wasn’t that he expected Yuuri to say that he loved him back, since it wasn’t the right place to do so, and Viktor was constantly battling the expectations he has for himself and for others. It was that even when Yuuri looked beyond himself to think of Viktor, he still responded with bluntness. He didn’t mean to be blunt, it just sort of… kind of… came out that way. Viktor always felt himself unreliable when it came to shouldering anyone’s emotions that weren’t his own, so he tended to avoid helping others with big decisions. It didn’t help that he was still trying to recover from talking to his Mother, a process which usually took a couple days to get through his system. Yuuri happened to get caught in the middle, for which Viktor couldn’t find a suitable way to overcome his guilt. Yuuri had always approached him with openness, kindness, and how did he respond? 

The city didn’t look as vibrant, feel as alive or engage with Viktor as he walked through alone. It felt like putting on an old sweater as he walked through the city, the anonymity that came from strolling through alone was something Viktor had become well acquainted with in his adulthood. He had spent so much time with himself, guarding himself from others, that he had trouble connecting. He preferred time alone, taking upon himself a life in which he could indulge in the anonymity of a big city without feeling obligated to anything else, and truly believing that he could only be himself if he was alone. Those feelings fueled and propelled him through his youth, but as he got older, it wasn’t the nagging from his parents to start a family that made him reconsider that. It was Yuuri. Yuuri had shown him a type of life and love that he didn’t know he was missing out on, and he felt fear knowing that the possibility still existed. Viktor had been sitting on a bench, thinking, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw that there was a text from Yuuri, almost perfectly timed to his own thoughts. 

“Are you ok? I’m sorry.” 

Running his hand through his hair, he grimaced at Yuuri’s text. _Damn, I can’t believe I did this. I ought to go back, I need to fix this…_ then, suddenly realized that he had forgotten where the hotel was, standing in a completely different part of town.  
**  
As Yuuri lounged on the balcony, a numbness fixed in his gut, he rested his phone face down after asking Viktor where he was. He wouldn’t think that Viktor would want to talk to him, but tried anyways. His problems weren’t _so_ pertinent that he should ignore Viktor’s. He should have listened to Mari and waited until after graduation to talk about his leaving or staying, he thought. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he was reminded of how he had said he would attempt to quit months ago. Looking at his cigarette, the way that the embers burned red at the tip and the way that the cigarette felt so right between his fingers, he ignored those thoughts. 

Eventually finding his way back, Viktor entered back inside calmly. Yuuri stubbed out his cigarette and walked toward the balcony door, standing right in the door frame. Viktor looked up at Yuuri, and Yuuri looked at Viktor. Each beginning to speak, saying the other’s names at the same time, they laughed sheepishly and walked closer to the other. As Viktor opened his arms up to Yuuri, he realized what it was that made him want to cling to Yuuri so bad. To him, Yuuri was his safe space, his refuge from a world that never let him feel quite like himself. The way that Yuuri looked at him, so loving and unwanting of anything other than what he could give then and there, lifted a weight off of Viktor’s shoulders that he didn’t know he had gotten used to. He didn’t deserve to take advantage of it the way that he did. And Yuuri, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s chest, still felt uneasy, but felt some reassurance in how Viktor clung to him. It was as if he wanted to say something, but was unsure of what to say or how to do so. Still, he wanted to burst from the seams of his inhibitions and tell Viktor how much he cared for him, how he loved him with his whole being, that he wanted so desperately to stay, but that he just needed time to decide. That he wanted Viktor’s support. 

“Yuuri…” he said over his shoulder, pulling Yuuri from his thoughts to look at him, meeting his glance. “I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. You don’t need to apologize to me.” But as he was about to continue, Yuuri interrupted Viktor. 

“I-I love you… too, Viktor. But, you don’t have to start suddenly acting like a… like a _boyfriend_ or something. I knew that you weren’t yelling at _me_. You were yelling at your Mom. I was just the only one there.” 

Pausing, Viktor felt the mood in the room shift. It was nice to be understood like this. It felt like all of the questions that he had asked were finally answered; that someone finally reached him. Viktor tended to keep his problems to himself, as people felt they had to match his charisma and were sickeningly positive in return. It began to feel invalidating, eventually, so Viktor just chose instead to keep his problems to himself. When he finally opened up to Yuuri, he didn’t respond the way that Viktor had expected him to. He met him where he was. 

“You know, I…I’ve hesitated to tell you, Yuuri, but I want you to stay in Detroit. Or, it doesn’t have to be Detroit. It can be anywhere. I just want you to stay with me.” 

Grinning, then pushing himself into Viktor’s shoulder, he felt himself laughing and tearing up. _No, no! Don’t cry!_ he said to himself, rubbing his tear-pooled eyes. Viktor pushed him away as he did this, leaning down a few inches so that their heights matched. After plucking a sweet kiss onto his lips, he said “Let’s go see the city!” Yuuri’s tired expression then grew into one of excitement as he nodded in agreement. 

Since he had already taken a stroll through the city, Viktor felt comfortable leading Yuuri to things that had caught his eye but had been too upset to pursue earlier. They walked through the city, linked in each other’s arms, pointing out whatever caught their eyes. The city was much more enchanting when sober, and in the daytime when others were out and about, bringing even more life to the city. Though when they had gone out before, Yuuri had been more reserved in his expression of affection toward Viktor, he felt much more comfortable now. It was nice feeling like the last bricks of the wall between them had finally fallen. They were free to be each other’s best friends and each other’s lovers, allowing only each other to see the depths of their consciousness. The city allowed them to reconcile what it meant to be with one another, what it meant to change another person. They had spent so much time searching for someone to connect with that they hadn’t thought of what to do when a connection was finally made. Though Yuuri often found his reserved nature and anxious tendencies to inhibit him, and Viktor’s confusion at what it meant to not be alone, there was something about the city that drew this out and forced them address it then and there. It was this reconciliation that fertilized the soil in the garden of their life and love, giving strength to the quickly blossoming peony of their love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI IM BACK thank you all for ur patience!!! i hope that you like this chapter!! i didn't realize just how badly my anxiety was affecting my writing and i am glad that i hesitated before posting my last chapter. you all didn't deserve that. i know that people are free to use ff as a medium to express their emotions thru whatever characters they choose, but yuuri and viktor are very important characters to me and i didn't want to distort their love because i couldn't parse through my own emotions. people read victuuri fanfics because they want to feel good and learn more about their love, not engage with the troubles of the author. (unless you do.... then please do! writing is important! so is dealing with your emotions in a healthy way!) again, thank u all for sticking w/ me. i know this isn't like a super popular fic or anything but i really like writing it and knowing that i make other people feel good. please don't hesitate to let me know what you're thinking! thank you all for reading! <3 (p.s. i promise the next chapter will be longer!!!!)
> 
> follow me on twitter! @isaBELLUH97


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor and yuuri realize the joy in their unity

The weeks following their return to Detroit brought a new sense of wonder to their quickly bourgeoning relationship. It was almost as if they had known the other their entire lives, but the intensity with which they connected more akin to those who had reconnected after a long separation, sensing in the other a kind of affirmation and validation that comes with finding their destinies. But, in spite of that, there was a concerted effort by the two to ignore the tension that arose from Yuuri’s uncertainty regarding his post-graduate plans. Viktor still maintained that he wanted Yuuri to stay, to be with him, and Yuuri’s persistent insecurities clouding his better judgement, keeping him from making a decision of his own. But, solace was to be found on a crisp, early summer afternoon. 

Going to Yuuri’s apartment during his day off, Viktor walked in much like he had before and made himself comfortable as he waited for Yuuri to gather himself. Plopping himself on the decades-old couch, Viktor noticed a small envelope with three gold corners sticking out of the end. He looked around, then moved the lip of the envelope and peered into the pocket, noticing three graduation tickets. Recalling that Yuuri had said he only has one sibling, it would make sense for there to be three tickets. _Is his family coming?_ Viktor thought to himself. His kneejerk reaction was fear, but after recalling how lovingly Yuuri spoke of his family, it didn’t seem like the types of people to be apprehensive of. Walking out of his bathroom wearing only a towel, whistling softly while drying his sopping black hair, Yuuri jumped when he noticed Viktor sitting on the couch. 

“Hi, Yuuri!” He said, his heart-shaped smile beaming as he pulled his hand away from the envelope. 

“W-When did you get here? I thought that you were coming at three o’clock?” 

His face falling, Viktor recalled the time. “It’s three-thirty now, Yuuri…” 

Yuuri’s brows knitted themselves in inquisition, turning to the clock that hung on the wall behind him and turning swiftly to his room. Viktor leaned back into the couch, chuckling to himself as he recalled Yuuri’s chronic lateness. Something about the tickets stuck with him, though, and he decided that he ought to ask. Walking up to the door and giving it a gentle knock, it opened with a pained squeak to show Yuuri in his room, scurrying around in his boxers and a white undershirt. 

“Ah, I’m sorry for being late! I lost track of time… again…” 

“It’s no worry, really,” he said, leaning on the doorframe, watching Yuuri frantically look for something. (He wasn’t sure what…) “Hey, Yuuri, those tickets on your coffee table… are they for your family?” 

Bending up from a pile he was tossing around, pushing his glasses up his nose, he replied, “Tickets? Oh, yeah,” then went back to tossing around the pile. (“If only he’d just let me fold those for him…” Viktor thought, the smile on his face really hiding the quiet anxiety he felt seeing Yuuri’s disorderly room.) 

“They are for my family, but they aren’t coming.” 

“What? Why not?” 

“Well, they have the spring to watch! It’s not like there are other people who can do it, and they’d be losing a lot of money if they closed it to come all the way here. Besides, it’s not even that big of a deal!” Yuuri replied, seeming disappointed, but at peace with the fact that his family couldn’t come. Letting Yuuri finish his sorting, Viktor held his head in thought. As he pulled out a wrinkly pair of jeans from the largest pile, he began to slide them up his legs and shimmied them up around his waist. 

“What if I came?” Viktor asked.  
“Huh?” Yuuri said, pausing from wrapping a belt around his jeans. “You want to come?” 

Venturing into his room, holding his arms out, Viktor replied, “Why not?” 

Finally buckling his belt, adjusting the way that it sat on his waist and pulling at his shirt, “Well… I don’t know. It might be too boring for you.” 

“Too boring? For ME?!”

“Viktor, I’ve seen how you act when you’re at work. You can’t sit still! The ceremony is probably a couple hours long...” Walking to his nightstand, Yuuri began to shove his wallet, keys, and other essentials into his pockets. 

“Well, I still want to come,” Viktor replied begrudgingly. 

“Really…” Yuuri pressed more than he did ask, narrowing his eyes in Viktor’s direction with the comical suspicion that he might not actually want to go-- Yuuri had learned to read Viktor’s bluffs. 

“Yes!” He said back, walking closer to where Yuuri stood. “Why should you have to go to your own graduation alone? Besides, I’m sure that I can find a way around my schedule so that I can come.” 

“Well, I suppose that might be nice…” Yuuri said to himself as he slipped on a pair of shoes, tapping his toes on the ground after they were on. 

“Oh, Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders the second he stood up straight. “We can get dinner afterwards, it’ll be nice! I promise.” 

Smiling to himself with his head nuzzled in Viktor’s chest, Yuuri replied, “Yeah, it will be.” 

“But, first,” Viktor said, pulling away from his embrace with Yuuri. “You need a suit, right?”

“No…?” Yuuri said, peering into the old, starched suit that hung in his closet, untouched since high school. 

Viktor met Yuuri’s glance, moved him, and kicked around the piles on the ground to get to Yuuri’s closet. He swung the door wide open and pulled out the suit, a pained look growing on his face. 

“Yuuri, this is covered in dust… when was the last time that you wore it?” 

“Ah, well! You see… recently! I don’t remember exactly when, but…” As Yuuri stammered, thinking of an answer to give Viktor, Viktor lay the suit on Yuuri’s bed and took if off of its rack. He held it out and gave it a shake, the dust coating the air around them and catching the sunlight as it came through the window. With his face turned slightly away from it, Viktor handed Yuuri the jacket of the suit. 

“Put it on.” 

“Why?”

“Put. It. On.” 

With a pouty scowl, Yuuri began to snake his arms through the sleeves. (“Oh, no… it’s tight!”) He just barely buttoned the front, the way that it lay over his stomach _just_ barely fitting him. His biceps _just_ noticeable through the pinstripe fabric, and the soft shoulder pads bunched painfully at the sides as he moved around. 

“Recently, huh?” 

Letting out a nervous laugh, Yuuri held a confident pose. “Yes! Can’t you tell?” 

Holding his head in his head, Viktor let out a frustrated sigh. 

“We’re buying you a new suit, and then we’re coming back here to burn this one.” 

“W-what?! I like this suit!” 

Viktor yanked the jacket off of Yuuri and threw it on the bed, promptly dragging him out of his room and slamming the door behind them. As they began to leave, Yuuri attempted to grab his box of cigarettes that sat on the small table next to his door. Noticing him struggling to put them in his pockets, Viktor slapped them out of his hand. 

“Viktor!” Yuuri moaned, just barely shoving a cigarette into his mouth as Viktor pulled him out of the apartment and down the stairs. 

Lighting the cigarette, one of his hands still in Viktor’s death grip, they walked down and to Viktor’s car parked at the end of the street. “Where are we going?” Yuuri asked before quickly blowing the smoke away from Viktor, his death grip now a gentle grasp with their fingers laced together. 

“To get you a suit, of course!” 

As he was about to take a drag, he stopped. “I thought that we were going to get food?” 

“We can do that later! We ought to do this now. Your graduation is only a week away isn’t it?” 

“That suit was fine, Viktor…”

“It wasn’t, and you know it. You were popping out of the thing!” 

Hand in hand with Viktor, paces now synchronized, Yuuri let the cigarette hang in his mouth. He thought of how he had gained some weight since he stopped skating, but had actively avoided eating the foods that he knew caused him to gain weight. That wasn’t enough, apparently, since nothing else about him had changed since the last time he wore the suit. Grabbing the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it in his, Viktor fished around in his pockets for his keys. 

“Hey…” Yuuri said with no real resolve to get it back, now standing at the side of Viktor’s car. He took a drag, breathing in long and deep and letting a smile grow on his face, then blew it over his shoulder. He threw it on the ground and stomped it out, then leaned down to get in the car. 

“There was still so much left!” Yuuri shouted in protest. 

“Oh, no there wasn’t. I don’t want you smoking in my car, anyways!” 

Buckling their seatbelts, Yuuri sat in the passenger seat with his arms crossed. “Who’s going to pay for this suit, huh?” 

“You think I’d take you to get this without paying for it?” 

“What?! Aren’t suits expensive?” 

“Well, yes, but I’m not taking you to a tailor! Just something nicer than what you already have… think of it as a graduation gift!” 

Viktor’s expression was calm and relaxed, different than his initial reaction. The way that they started to playfully bicker with each other was endearing in its own right, each one learning more about the other through how they would retaliate to the other’s blows. It never ended with resentment, but rather a child-like acceptance of the small things that one couldn’t change about the other. In this case, Viktor had won. Nevertheless, Yuuri liked watching him as he drove, his eyes flittering in every which direction and shoulders sharpening when he turned the wheel. He looked so confident and assured, something that Yuuri felt deep and virulent affection for. Noticing Yuuri staring at him, Viktor moved his arm over to rest on Yuuri’s shoulder, running his fingers along the hairs at the base of his neck. They drove in a comfortable silence, Viktor running his hand through Yuuri’s still-damp hair, and Yuuri leaning his head into Viktor’s hand, scrolling through his phone as they drove. They found comfort in knowing that one had no expectations of the other. 

 

They pulled into a mall shortly after, one that Yuuri had been to a handful of times. Viktor lead them to a small store, the old cashier giving them only a short glance before putting his head back into his hand, falling back asleep. Yuuri looked around nervously, but Viktor took his hand and gave him a reassuring smile, telling him that there was no need to worry without actually saying it. They began looking around, Yuuri gazing up at the mannequins as Viktor sped through the racks of suit pieces behind him. Before he knew it, Viktor was shoving Yuuri into a dressing room and pulling the curtain shut behind him. A pile of clothes in his hand, Yuuri sighed in resignation. Hanging up the various pieces on the wall hooks to his sides, he gazed at himself in the mirror, every part of his body exposed by the room’s harsh lighting. Undressing quietly, Yuuri noticed the way that the pooch of his stomach sat above the band of his boxers, a quiet trail of hair leading from his bellybutton and into his shorts. He turned, remarking at the subtle love handles he hadn’t noticed that he had before, and became reacquainted with the quiet stretch marks on his hips and back. He had been picked on as a kid for his weight, and even through to his adulthood, that insecurity followed him. He had gotten used to the insults to where they stopped hurting, but Yuuri hadn’t noticed until now that he was so unfamiliar with how he looked. He didn’t remember when, exactly, he stopped looking. 

“You ready yet? I want to see!” Viktor said excitedly, obviously standing right outside of dressing room. The chair must have been too oppressive for him even though Yuuri hadn’t been in the dressing room more than 5 minutes. 

“Just a second!” Yuuri said, now pulled out of his thoughts, grabbing at the closest matching suit. It was plain, black… a suit. They all looked the same to him. Yuuri felt his face scrunch up as he began to move the curtain, but let it ease as he saw Viktor waiting for him. Turning to him, his eyes lit up bright as he put his hands together at his chest. 

“Oh, Yuuri! You look amazing!” 

A blush peeking through the apples of his cheeks, Yuuri turned to the mirror outside of the dressing room and looked at himself. “You think so?” He turned around, attempting to see his back and legs, seeing how the slender suit fit on his body and imaging how it might feel under a gown. He liked it. Viktor moved up to him, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder, “You do! I knew that you would, too…” (“Maybe I won’t have to try on the other ones…” Yuuri thought to himself, suddenly grateful that Viktor was so happy.) 

“Alright, on to the next one!” Viktor exclaimed, pulling away from Yuuri and pushing him back into the dressing room. 

Letting out another sigh of resignation, Yuuri tried on three more suits, Viktor seeming to love each one equally. Gratefully changing back into his street clothes, Yuuri walked back out of the dressing room with the pile of clothes in his hands. 

“So, which one do you want?” Viktor asked, still not sitting in his chair, excitedly waiting for Yuuri’s decision. Looking through the pile in his arms, he thought back to the first suit. It was plain and simple, which was all that he really needed. 

“I guess… I liked the first one. It was nice.” 

“Great! I’m glad you chose that one, it was my first choice, but I wanted to see how everything else looked on you,” Viktor said, beginning to speak quickly and excitedly. Yuuri indulged in his excitement, thinking to his own bank account and how his funds were about to be quickly depleted with the end of his current lease. He _did_ need a new suit, so if Viktor was willing to pay…  
Looking at the total, it was more than Yuuri thought it would be. Granted, he didn’t know exactly what he expected. He looked to Viktor, his eyes pleading as if to say, “You don’t _have_ to do this!” Sensing this, Viktor smiled and waved his hand around, opening his wallet and taking out a sleek, silver credit card. He gave Yuuri a wink, as if to tell him not to worry about it; the way that confidence carved itself into Viktor’s face, his strong and reliable presence reassuring to Yuuri, the chaos surrounding his graduation plans begging for such a presence to calm it. 

They drove to Viktor’s in silence, Yuuri clutching the plastic-covered suit on its hanger and mind still swirling with the anxieties of his post-grad plans. But, in the back of his mind, he heard Viktor’s voice saying that he doesn’t care where he goes, so long as they’re together. They echoed around, bumping into thoughts of his family, of his career. He stared out the window with tensed shoulders, his teeth begging for a nail to gnaw and foot tapping impatiently against the carpeted floor of Viktor’s car. He felt himself spiraling; he wanted to reciprocate Viktor’s dedication to him wholly and with his entire being, but didn’t know how. He wanted to see his family, he wanted to find a job outside of Detroit, but he didn’t want to uproot Viktor from his own life and risk him resenting Yuuri. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his. Yuuri looked down, the clouds of his thoughts clearing as he noticed Viktor hold his hand. It was soft and slightly clammy, probably from the way that he gripped the wheel. He placed his hand on Yuuri’s, laying them on his thigh, still staring forward. 

Viktor could read Yuuri like a book at this point in their time together. He grew quiet, more reserved and retreated from the presence of others. He locked himself in his own thoughts, letting them plague him and fog his judgement, making him prone to their impulsive desires for reprieve and comfort. But, that was the extent of Viktor’s comforting abilities. He expressed himself best with affection, wanting to show reassurance and support through a gentle hand or a soft kiss, not through rough-edged words that spilt out of his mouth more than they flowed. In his periphery, he saw Yuuri clutching the suit and could hear the light tapping of his foot. Yuuri’s nerves hasn’t fully subsided since their trip, and Viktor had already said all that he could with regards to Yuuri’s departure. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but decided to at least offer a gentle hand so that Yuuri knew he wasn’t alone. That he’d support him in anything and everything and follow his love to the ends of the Earth. 

**

On the day of Yuuri’s graduation, Viktor found the smells and sounds of the small arena nostalgic. He was reminded of all the time that he spent laboring over his own studies, wanting so desperately to validate to himself the reasons why he left his family in the first place, that it wasn’t all for naught. He hoped that Yuuri could feel a similar pride, though it’s likely that his affinity for self-doubt would stain his hard work and subsequent accomplishments. Yuuri was right about one thing, though. The second that Viktor sat down on the cold, steel bleacher, stuck between families of people he didn’t know, all with signs and air horns, that he wanted to get up. Looking at the itinerary, he saw that the ceremony would be _agonizingly_ long, just as Yuuri had said. There was a second where he regretted coming, but was quickly forgotten as the fanfare of the ceremony begun. Clad with black gowns and caps, Viktor watched as Yuuri’s small class walked in single file to their seats, the hours of rehearsal present in their harsh turns and uniform movements. Viktor strained himself trying to find Yuuri, thinking of all the possible ways that the class could be organized. Height? Family name? Class rank? No matter, he thought, because Yuuri was already looking for him. He saw him in the middle, head orbiting around his shoulders in an effort to find Viktor. When their eyes met, Viktor held back his shouts of love and pride and instead waved with his entire arm, moving his whole body and tourmaline eyes shining bright. Yuuri smiled embarrassingly, he saw, and turned to face the front once more. Seeing Yuuri in the crowd, not noticing anyone but him, Viktor felt his love for Yuuri swell and burst in his chest. Maybe it was the air of the room, pomp and circumstance creating an atmosphere of accomplishment and pride, that made Viktor feel so emotional. That, and maybe how Yuuri’s graduation signaled to him that it was the end of a chapter in an ever-growing book; he knew that Yuuri wanted to go home, and felt his apprehension more in the last few days than in the entire time they had known each other. Though Yuuri was sitting, motionless and still with his hands picking at each other, he saw in his eyes even from where he sat that he was looking for an answer. 

Yuuri could already feel Viktor regret coming to his graduation, but for this felt no guilt. He told him so! He knew that he never liked to sit still: when at dinner, he was always refilling their glasses, fiddling with some utensil, and when he was at work, he didn’t seem to understand what the feeling of a chair was to his bottom. Even from the depths of the arena, he could feel Viktor’s impatient foot tapping and see the way that his arms clutched each other in frustration. Turning back to the front, Yuuri felt the same boredom that Viktor was probably feeling. His phone burned a hole in his suit, tempting him whenever he felt it shift in his pocket. He resisted, though, choosing to stare past the speaker and out the large window at the top of the arena. The sun was shining bright through this window, birds landing on the branches of the trees outside and giving muted chirps. He thought back to his family’s spring in Hasetsu, the way that the sakura trees bloomed so vivid this time of year and seeing their petals floating in the springs. He could hear the gentle chime of bells responding to the dancing mountain wind, smell the salty ocean and feel the sand in his toes and socks. He yearned to see his family and his home again, even if just for a while. As Yuuri sat in the fold-out seat of the auditorium, he finally felt a peace he hadn’t known for weeks. He wanted to go home, but he knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t going to stay long. The ways that school and life abroad impacted him were varied, but Yuuri had spent so long trying to understand who he was to this school, to this country, that he lost sight of the things that made him feel most like himself. But in the pit of his stomach, there existed not guilt at leaving Viktor, but a warmth. He would go to Hasetsu, work and try to get back to himself, but knew that Viktor was a presence he couldn’t live without. In his fear of Viktor leaving him, he hadn’t realized that Viktor was the one who didn’t want him to leave. 

Viktor met Yuuri wherever he was, he understood him and in turn gave Viktor a kind of acceptance that he had yearned for. The two couldn’t bear to be without the other, but through this Yuuri had the confidence to know that there’s not a force which can keep them apart. If he goes to Hasetsu, it doesn’t mean it’s the end. Beyond them lies their entire lives, malleable and soft as fresh clay, waiting for a loving potter’s hand. He needed this for himself, that much was certain, but Viktor couldn’t subsist on his nervous apprehensions to fill in the gaps of communication. Viktor needed Yuuri to say what he needed, and how. 

Still staring in the distance as he picked at his cuticles, deep in thought, Yuuri noticed everyone get up around him. Quickly, he got up, embarrassment painting his face a bright red, and began walking toward the stage to get his diploma. As he walked across the stage, he felt the blisters that his half-a-size-too-small dress shoes had already worn into his feet, and could hear the creaking of the old, wooden stage beneath his weight. As he shook the President’s hand, smiling and taking his diploma, he heard Viktor shout his name from the crowd, his giant, heart-shaped smile unmistakable, even in a crowd of hundreds. 

Viktor had been pulled from his boredom when he saw the students get up, vibrating with excitement at hearing Yuuri’s name be called. He couldn’t help but shout with excitement when his darling Yuuri’s name had been called, knowing well that he would be scolded for such an embarrassing display of affection later, but not _really_ caring. 

 

As the students left the auditorium and families crowded at the doors, Viktor managed to get outside and scurry around to try and find Yuuri. Going to the edge of the crowds, he found him again, standing in the center and looking aimlessly. When one noticed the other, their walks turning to running and bodies colliding together. Viktor could feel the tension leave Yuuri as they embraced one another, the feeling of what it meant to be soulmates blinding them to the few who stared at them. As they pulled apart to face each other, they leaned in as if to kiss, but stopped, smiling and laughing, then embracing once more, tighter. Yuuri felt hot tears pool in his eyes as he laughed, the jubilation of his graduation and sadness of leaving Viktor creating in him a melancholy that he could only express now as tears. Viktor, pulling away once more, looked at Yuuri as he wiped his eyes from under his glasses. He felt uncomfortable, still uncomfortable and unknowledgeable about what to do when people around him cry. He stood frigid for a moment, hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, waiting and desperately wanting for Yuuri to tell him what was the matter, what he should do to help. Instead, he didn’t give a command. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri started, his voice hoarse and shaking. “I’m going back to Hasetsu, but I want you to wait for me.” 

Laughing, feeling the tension release and settle, Viktor leaned down to Yuuri. He took Yuuri’s hand from his waist and held it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the front of his fist. Looking back up, his bright, expressive eyes meeting Yuuri’s and curved by his knowing smile, he replied “What, you thought I wouldn’t?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHH hi everyone im BACK jfghfjhfjgh im so happy i got to write this. i made sure it was extra long bc im so appreciative to u all for sticking with me!! i only have 2 exams left, but the worst of this finals period is OVER!!! i really hope that you all enjoy this, because i enjoyed writing this chapter immensely :-) i will try to update regularly over my winter break, but i'm not quite sure when/how regularly i ought to. i'll figure that out eventually i guess lol
> 
> follow me on twitter ! ---> @isaBELLUH97


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor and yuuri familiarize themselves with the loneliness inside of them, and mari learns more about her brother

Through his headphones, he could still hear the Capitan announcing that all passengers need to turn off their phones and buckle their seatbelts. Pulling his earbuds from where they rested and wrapping them around his now-off phone, he shoved it in his pocket and buckled his seatbelt, per Capitan's instructions. Looking out the window, he could see the clouds start to dissipate and familiar sights return to him. He had been on many plane rides before this, but he hadn’t been home in at least five years. 

As he got off the plane, went through security and walked to where his mother’s friend, Minako, would meet him, he sensed something was different. Well, what wouldn’t be after being away for so long? He looked around at the renovated airport, looking more sleek and modern than when he last left it. When he made his way to the waiting area, it wasn’t Minako standing there, but Viktor. He noticed Yuuri, standing up along with Makkachin, and began to walk toward Yuuri. Yuuri had been sure that he wouldn’t see Viktor for the next few months, at least, so what was he doing in Japan? How did he get here before Yuuri did? No matter, he thought. Instead, he ran. Yuuri was cognizant of how much they looked like a movie, but there’s a reason that the cliché exists. What else are you to do when the love of your life surprises you when you thought that you were going to be apart for so long? 

When he and Viktor collided against each other, Viktor wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, and Yuuri holding himself up against his chest, the same warmth and safety that he felt in Detroit came flooding back to him. Viktor wasn’t just his closest friend, he was the feeling of _home_ , the feeling of safety and the feeling of acceptance. Whenever he saw Viktor, he saw the rest of his life, and felt confident that no matter what, he would be okay. But, when he saw Viktor this time, there wasn’t a face. When he pulled away to look up at him, all Yuuri saw was a blank face, curved as if there was a face below it like clay waiting for its artist to sculpt. Yuuri pulled away in fear, exclaiming as he tripped over himself. 

The mouth of who he thought was Viktor moved as if to say something, but only indiscernible mumbles could be heard. He moved closer and closer to Yuuri, the voice becoming clearer as he leaned down to see him, but the voice, too, didn’t belong to Viktor. It almost sounded like his Mom’s… All it did was repeat his name, over and over, growing more and more frustrated when Yuuri didn’t reply. Then, suddenly, he was in his room. 

 

“Yuuri, wake up! It’s already noon!” 

His body shooting up in terror, his hair askew and sweat clinging to his back, Yuuri once again acquainted himself with the sight of his childhood bedroom as the first thing that he saw when he woke. 

“Yuuri, do you hear me?” 

“U-Uh yes! Sorry!” 

“Don’t hole yourself up in your room again, okay?” 

“Okay, I’ll be down in a second.” 

Yuuri heard the sound of his mother’s footsteps leaving, sounding satisfied that he was finally awake. Laying back in bed, spreading his arms out beside him, Yuuri released a deep breath. He had been home for about a week now and was still recovering from jetlag. Rubbing his eyes and shooing away the eye goop that had collected overnight, he turned to his side and looked at his phone. Sitting up and grabbing his glasses, he noticed that Viktor had sent him a text. He received it at 4 a.m., but it would have been 2:30 p.m. the day before. In the picture was the table that he spent so many hours sitting at, pining, but mostly studying. A bright, chipper light was pouring in through the window, as if to beckon Yuuri back. The text read, “Slow day, I miss you!” By now, Viktor was probably just settling into bed, so Yuuri decided to send him a message back. He took a photo of his own window, the sun still forcing itself through the overcast sky and brightening his room. His own message read, “Just woke up… It’s 11 a.m.— here jetlag is really ruining my life.” After he sent it, he added, “I miss you, more.” Rubbing his eyes once more under his glasses, a yawn crawled out of his stomach and throat and urged him out of his bed. 

 

Eating breakfast, he saw his parents and sister mingling around the kitchen as if he hadn’t left in the first place. It wasn’t a sad feeling, but more of a feeling of resumption—his absence had simply been a pause in their family’s dynamic, but now that he was back, things could resume as they had five years previously. There wasn’t an impudence to it that Yuuri could feel, but more of a realization that life didn’t stop here when he left to study abroad. 

Unlike most of his youth, Yuuri’s parents kept their requests from him to a minimum. When he had left, he was only 18, but returning a 23-year old had its own perks, but he knew it was just because he had returned after so long, and because he just graduated college. Yuuri was sure that he would go back to cleaning and prepping food in the next few weeks. Before then, though, Yuuri relished in his family’s beloved onsen that he spent so much time longing to return to. The feeling was unquenchable when he first returned to Hasetsu—he desired to absorb and experience everything that he hadn’t felt or seen or heard or smelt in the last five years, to reconnect with himself and find out why he ached with loneliness.  
For so much of his life, Yuuri had been content to spend time with only himself. He didn’t mind the presence of others, but much preferred to be by himself and his own thoughts. He found satisfaction in the presence of others, but more so in their absence. He made friends wherever he went, and was never against going out of his way to spend time with them, but he never felt lonely when he was without them. Their presence didn’t fill any void within Yuuri, since that void never existed in the first place. So, then, what was this nagging feeling in his chest? Why did being back home hurt so much when it felt scantly different than when he had left? 

As Yuuri sat on his back porch, overlooking the empty Onsen with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, he felt the weight of Viktor’s absence inside of him. The smell of the cigarette, a brand that he could only find in America, reminded him of Viktor. It reminded him of the way that their lips felt pressed to one another, the way that Yuuri loved to be embraced by him when they slept, it was like his dream—Viktor felt like home. Maybe Hasetsu could remain as his home, as the place that supported him and molded him into who he is, but Viktor could be his future, his love and his life, the home that Yuuri makes for himself and gives him the ability to look in himself with a kind of honesty that can only be gained from creating your own sense of home. Maybe that’s what is weighing him down so much, this home doesn’t feel like _home_ anymore. It’s bittersweet, Yuuri thought, but not so much bitter as it is nostalgic and sweet, the remnants of himself from before his life abroad finally degrading into the soil of his consciousness, giving way for his new sense of home and self to bloom.  
**  
Viktor missed Yuuri, simply put. He had been spending the night in the days before he left, as the lease on his apartment had gone up and there was a small window with which he needed a place to stay. Gleefully, Viktor invited Yuuri to stay with him. Now, though, a week after his departure, Viktor’s apartment feels vastly different. Yuuri had only stayed with him a few days, coming over a few times a week before that, coming and going with no great consequence. But, knowing that Yuuri wasn’t going to be there for the forseeable future weighed Viktor down. It wasn’t the same, going to work and then going home, all the while knowing that no is waiting for you. It was a loneliness that he quickly forgot when he met Yuuri, but felt painfully familiar. 

As he tidied one day, the window open in his room and letting in the sticky, late spring air, Viktor discovered a small pile of clothes that he didn’t recognize. Knowing Yuuri’s affinity for piles, he knew instantly that he had forgotten some of his things. Even though he was leaving the country, he still didn’t take the time to make sure that he had all of his belongings. 

Viktor picked up the clothes, feeling the soft jersey cotton in his hands, and brought it to his nose. Yuuri’s musky sweetness, like raw honey, clung to the fabric. Bringing it away, but only to bring it back to his nose, Viktor remarked at how much Yuuri had changed him. It was hard reconciling the way that he got so used to the loneliness of living alone in Detroit, and found great comfort in Makkachin. He had no expectations, no stipulations to his love and never withheld his affection from Viktor. Makkachin was smart, too, and could sense when Viktor had a bad day, though it was never hard to miss. But, when Yuuri came along, his life felt a sort of rotundness that he finally understood as a feeling of deep satisfaction. He had no name for the loneliness that shadowed him, only realizing that it was there when Yuuri had come and gone. 

Looking at his phone, sitting next to a pile of folded clothes on his bed, Viktor noticed a message pop up on his phone. He quickly folded Yuuri’s shirt, placing it lovingly on the pile of his own clothes, and picked up his phone. In response to the photo he sent earlier that day, Yuuri sent a photo of himself, groggy and painted with the signs of exhaustion. He let out a laugh, thinking to all the times that he had to urge Yuuri to wake up whenever he spent the night. If time was more than a mere object, Yuuri would have gladly slept all day. Looking to his own bed, feeling the way that Yuuri affectionately held him all through the night, the way that his eyes could barely stay open whenever he woke up, the way that his warmth lent itself so well to him, Viktor felt the weight of his loneliness reposition itself on his shoulders. It had taken a break, but was back and wanted to make itself comfortable. 

Shortly after, Viktor saw another text pop up on the screen. It read, “I miss you, more.”

Though he knew it was still there, knowing that Yuuri wouldn’t forget him eased the burden of his aching.  
**  
Placing his phone in his lap, Yuuri took the cigarette out of his mouth and let it rest in-between his fingers. He heard the floors creaking behind him, per usual, but then felt the door slide open and close behind him. 

“Yuuri, what are you doing out here all by yourself?” 

Turning around, he saw his sister lighting a cigarette of her own, moving to sit next to him. 

“Oh… nothing. Just thinking.” 

After a few moments of silence, Mari pressed on. “How does it feel to be home, Yuuri?” 

Thinking of exactly how to answer, Yuuri responded, “The same as when I left, mainly. Different, of course, but not different from how I remember it when I left. The train station was renovated, which surprised me, but everything else feels kind of… the same.” 

Mari chuckled to herself in agreement, saying “Yeah, that sounds about right. Not much changes around here.” After which, she took a drag from her own cigarette, looking down at Yuuri’s as she blew the smoke out of her mouth. 

“Still smoking those awful American cigarettes?” she remarked knowingly. 

“Hey, I like them, and there's no contest because they’re all equally terrible.” 

“Oh, you know I’m just messing with you,” she retorted back, pausing to remark at Yuuri’s sullen expression. “Is everything okay?” 

Looking up, then avoiding her glance, Yuuri replied that he was fine, “Just tired. Jetlag, you know?” 

Eyebrows knitting in inquisition, Mari searched further. She knew there was more to it, there always was. “Are you sure? You’ve been checking your phone an awful lot.” 

Yuuri looked away, playing with his phone nervously. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but I’m here if you need me. You know that.” 

“Yeah, I do. Thanks,” he replied, picking at his cuticles as the cigarette hung loosely from his lips. 

Mari thought of getting up, but had a feeling that Yuuri wanted her to stay—he was always like that. He never needed anything from people emotionally or mentally, but sensed from him something different. Of course, Yuuri had changed in the five years he lived in America, but she couldn’t quite place what this change was, exactly. Normally, Yuuri would be comfortable being with himself, but something changed in him that made him seem brighter, fresh and ripe, but more over that there was something inhibiting that. He had undergone a change, but something had put a stop to it. Was it that he was home? Did he miss America? 

“Is it about Viktor?” Mari asked, thinking that he may want to talk about his lover. 

Looking up, his eyes bright and uninhibited, but his expression still forlorn, Mari knew she had struck something. 

“Yeah," he replied, looking back down. "I suppose I’m not that hard to read, am I?” 

“I’ve only known you for twenty-four years, so, not really,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Yuuri pursed his lips, his expression turning sour and lips only relaxing when he put the cigarette to his lips. He opened his mouth as if to speak, letting out the smoke, but then closing his mouth again, letting the smoke instead escape from his nose. Crushing the cigarette on the small glass dish next to him, he then held his head in his hands, looking forlorn but clearly searching for an answer. 

“You don’t have to talk, it’s okay… Do you have any graduation pictures? You said you had some to show me.” 

Some of his tension clearly being released with the change in subject, Yuuri pulled his phone up from his lap and began searching for pictures.

“Ah, here they are,” he said, handing the phone to Mari. She scrolled through, seeing ones that were clearly candid and not taken by him. The first few were of him checking his gown in a mirror, the room looking lavishly furnished and sleek. The photos progressed from him adjusting his black gown and cap, to turning around and looking embarrassed and walking toward whoever had the phone. As she looked through, Mari felt Yuuri rest his head on her shoulder. 

The next sequence was of he and a good-looking foreigner, quickly realizing that she didn’t even know what Viktor looked like when Yuuri told her about him. In the pictures, they were both smiling big and gleefully. Viktor’s arm was wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulder, their expressions jovial and exuberant as they clung to one another. The last photo in the sequence was of Viktor kissing Yuuri’s head, pushing his glasses into an awkward position, but Yuuri nevertheless smiling unlike she had ever seen. She realized that she had scrolled too far when she saw pictures of a dog that she didn’t recognize, but thought for a second was Vic-chan. 

“Ah, Yuuri! This dog looks exactly like Vic-chan! Whose is it?” His head perking up from her shoulder, he grabbed the phone from her hand. 

“Right?! It’s Viktor’s dog, her name is Makkachin. She’s just like Vic-chan,” he replied, pulling up an entire folder he had dedicated to photos of her. Mari looked through, cooing at this wonderfully aged dog, occasionally seeing Viktor in the shots. One was his back as he held Makka’s leash, strolling through a park that showed signs of winter, another was Makka lying on the couch next to Viktor as he read with a comically full glass of wine in his hand, slim reading glasses resting on the edge of his nose. The last in that folder was a selfie that Yuuri had taken of he and Makka, her nose nudging Yuuri’s glasses up as she licked his cheek. Mari chuckled with each photo that she looked at, exclaiming at Makka’s cuteness or Viktor’s alcohol consumption, which Yuuri didn’t comment on. He seemed to perk up when he could talk about Viktor outside the context of their relationship, when he could talk about the things that he loved about him instead of trying to justify their love to her. 

“You look happy in these pictures, Yuuri,” Mari said, looking down at her brother. Though the six-year age gap didn’t feel like a lot, it was times like these where Mari couldn’t help but see her brother as he was when he lived in Hasetsu, before he left to America. Jeering toward him and handing his phone back to him, Mari poked his arm playfully. 

“Do you _love_ him?” 

“Mari, please!” He said between laughs as he tried to escape her incessant poking. “Of course I do!” 

Ah, and there it was. The confidence in his voice when he expressed his love for Viktor--there was that change that Mari had noticed in Yuuri earlier. How could she have not noticed? He was always so quiet, it was easy to overlook small changes in his demeanor—he missed Viktor. He wanted to leave America, but he didn’t want to leave Viktor. It made Mari feel sad that a part of Yuuri was now with Viktor, since she was used to knowing Yuuri in every sense of himself, but she knew that it was for the best. He was twenty-four, for God’s sake. He wasn’t the blissfully ignorant eighteen-year old that he was when he left Hasetsu, he was an adult now. He was mature, he found someone to share himself with. He wasn’t enough for himself anymore, and found a new sense of fulfillment in sharing himself with another, and receiving part of them in return. As she looked lovingly at her brother, the phone in his lap began to ring. 

“Oh, that’s Viktor! I’ll be right back,” he said, jumping up and scurrying to the room inside. He crushed his cigarette in the ash tray next to him as he jumped up, and in English, he began speaking with an elevated tone, laughing as he closed the door behind him. She knew that Yuuri needed time to reacquaint himself with life outside of school and spend time with his family, who he openly expressed missing the entire time he was away, but Mari hoped that he didn’t stay in Hasetsu. She wanted to see him find his own corner of the world and claim it for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE im sorry that updates have been so scattered and infrequent. my boss has been relentless in my schedule this break, so i've not had time to really sit down and write. i also found myself falling prey to the echochamber that this fandom can be sometimes, and wanted to rewatch yoi so that i could characterize viktor and yuuri better for you all. i hope that you like this chapter!!! please let me know your thoughts!  
> follow me on twitter! @isaBELLUH97


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Viktor pays a visit to his parents to try and reconcile his own ideas about "family"

Though the loneliness he felt in the month that he hadn’t seen Yuuri had a different flavor than it did at any other time, Viktor still found it difficult to manage. He found himself longing for Yuuri at night when he went to bed, his apartment feeling too quiet without him there to talk to. It felt strange seeing other students sit at the table where he sat when they first met; on one of the first nights that Yuuri was away, Viktor made two portions for dinner instead of one without realizing it; Makkachin even pawed at the clothes that Yuuri had left behind by mistake, whining in confusion. 

To combat this, Viktor tried to assuage the muted feelings of loneliness by pouring them into his work. He picked up a few extra shifts, worked on a few projects around the café, and tried to find new ways to fulfill himself. He had always found his work at the café satisfying, so he thought this would be one of the best things to do. That is, he thought. In spite of his efforts, Viktor still felt something nag at him that took weeks to put his finger on. He spent just as much, if not more time with Makkachin, he tried cooking new recipes, finding new places in Detroit to visit, he even researched new Master’s programs that he might be interested in applying to! But, nothing seemed to stick. He missed Yuuri, but knew that this wasn’t the reason why he couldn’t bide his time without his thoughts trailing back to his beloved. 

As he lay in bed one late summer morning, the birds chirping and heat still penetrating through his black-out curtains, he realized what he ought to do. Looking at his phone, he realized that his Mother’s birthday was in just under a week. He was sure that his whole family would be at his childhood home to celebrate, and it was likely expected that Viktor was too busy to make the drive to New York. But, something inside of his heart urged him to pack his bags and go, calling out of work for a few days. He had been working overtime the previous weeks, and many people who had gone on vacation were glad to take his shifts and earn their money back. But, more than anything, he felt it owed it to Yuuri to reconcile his past before continuing with their future. 

After his most recent interaction with his mother, months prior, Viktor felt a nagging guilt knowing that Yuuri heard him. He didn’t want Yuuri to see him in that way, since it was uncharacteristic of him to let his anger come to a head such as it did. But, Viktor knew well now that he had no choice in who his family was. He loved them for who they were and that they helped him shape who he is now, but struggled to feel the warmth of “family” that one could feel in movies or TV shows. The closest he had felt was when he spent time with Yuuri, feeling the weight of the world lift from his shoulders and a warmth blossom in his chest knowing that there was someone in the world who loved and accepted him wholeheartedly, unconditionally, and with a deep fervor that Viktor didn’t feel worthy of. 

If he was going to make his life with Yuuri, reopen his heart and life to him when they reunited and walk hand-in-hand to the rest of their lives, he wanted to mend the jagged edges of his familial relationships. They weren’t abusive or harmful, by any means. It was just a quiet resentment that Viktor felt toward people who hadn’t made an effort to understand or accept him, instead resigning themselves to antiquated stereotypes and taboos when viewing the world around them. He knew he couldn’t change them, much less be fully accepted, but if he could at least assert himself as a responsible and mature adult, that the trivial things which his family were so fixated on didn’t make up the bulk of his existence, then maybe he would find peace. Maybe he could allow himself to create a new sense of family with Yuuri. When he wondered what he could do to be better for Yuuri, this was one of the things which clung to the forefront of his mind. 

_Huh…_ Viktor said to himself as he loaded his suitcase in his car. _It almost sounds like a proposal, doesn’t it?_ Shaking the thoughts from his head, he urged Makkachin into the back seat, and closed the door behind her. As he slid into the front seat of his car, he looked at his phone one last time. There was a message from his dad, asking if he was alright to make the drive. He quickly typed back that he was fine, and not to worry. 

***  
The drive itself took about 9 hours with traffic. Viktor didn’t mind long drives, since it gave him so much time to think. But, with this trip, his mind felt kind of… blank. The only thing he found himself thinking of the anxiety that surrounded his first visit home in years. He was excited to see his family and to reconnect, but knowing that they would inevitably attempt to incriminate Viktor as to his life’s trajectory, the familial excitement died rather quickly. This went on in cycles over the long trip. He made occasional pit stops, letting Makka out of his car to relieve herself, then trying his best to wrangle her back into his car because the new scents were so exciting and new to her. Each stop brought with it a new feeling and atmosphere, which was what Viktor loved about travelling so much. He loved that he got a different feeling from every place that he visited, no matter how boring it may seem. 

When he felt himself enter the town in which he grew up, he felt his stomach begin to lurch and jump. He hadn’t eaten much during the drive, but was anxious about seeing his family once again. What would they say? How would they react? Would they expect Yuuri there? Will they ask about Yuuri? What should he say if they do ask? He was so hyperfocused on his own thoughts that he nearly missed his exit, quickly changing lanes and having to apologize to the driver behind him. 

Pulling into his street and to his family’s home, all the feelings of his adolescence returned to him in waves of his most seminal moments; running home with his backpack as a small child sneaking back home from a friend’s house and getting caught as he tried and failed to open the door quietly, having a kiss stolen from him from behind the tree in his front yard, driving up to the house with his first car, finding his college acceptance letter in the mail… all the experiences that brought him to Detroit, and effectively brought him to Yuuri, came flooding back to him. 

Being who he is now, with Makka alongside him, made getting out of his car much easier. He walked to the door facing the sidewalk and let Makka out, who sped past him and through the yard, sniffing all around the grass and flowerbeds. As he stood staring at her, he saw his Father peek his head out of the window. 

“Vitya, is that you?”

Walking closer, then feeling his hands creep up his arms into a sort of hug around himself, he responded affirmatively. A pause grew between them as his father stay standing in the door frame, and Viktor standing in the yard, feeling as if he were stranger in the home that he grew up in, waiting to be invited in. He called Makka to his side, and led her in. The house was quiet at the moment, Viktor’s bag feeling incredulous at his side and Makka seeming to reflect his own nervousness. 

“You want coffee?” His dad asked, pouring a cup for himself. Viktor sat his bag down at the foot of the kitchen table, just as he always did, and sat with him. He poured a cup for Viktor, and slid it across the table. Thanking him and picking it up, he took a sip. Without realizing, he felt his nose scrunch at the scent of the coffee, not the kind which he was used to having, and not nearly the caliber of what he drank every day when at the café, but was nevertheless enjoyable in its own right. Especially since his father made it, as they both liked their coffee strong and bold. 

“Ah, bet you don’t like this store-brand stuff, do ya’, barista-man?” 

Chuckling to himself, Viktor placed the mug back on the table. “It’s not that, I’ve been spoiled, really. This is just fine, thank you.” 

In the living room next to them, Viktor could see Makka pawing at the carpet, trying to find a comfortable place to sleep. It seems as though she already made herself comfortable… 

“You look well, Vitya. Are you eating alright?” 

“Yes, Papa, I am,” he responded, feeling his stream of consciousness flow quicker into himself and away from the present moment. 

“That’s good, that’s good…” his dad replied. “How is that degree treating you?” 

Laughing more audibly than before, Viktor responded, “I think you know how that’s going, Papa. I’ve been thinking of going back for my master’s though. I don’t know in what, yet, but I’ve been thinking about it.” 

“Oh, really? Would you come back here to do it?” 

“No, I would probably stay close by in Detroit. There are good schools in commuting distance,” he answered, the stream’s tide slowing and shifting back and outwards. He and his father didn’t always agree, but at least they could calmly talk with each other. 

Perhaps by virtue of Viktor asserting his independence and competence on his own, hundreds of miles from home, he earned a new kind of respect from his father that he couldn’t have earned otherwise. A practical and simple man, all that warranted respect were traits such as the ones that Viktor had gained through his adulthood. The traits which he may not have found as savory, such as his management of the café, his relationship with Yuuri, were considered secondary to him. 

Viktor was determined and hard-working, a perfectionist, even. He gave a piece of himself to everything that he did, and the outcome was most always a reflection of the beauty that Viktor found in the small, unappreciated parts of his world. But, on the surface, Viktor’s father saw his belligerent, stubborn, rogue, but creative and starry-eyed son. He wondered why his wife, Viktor’s mother, was so sure that he was throwing his life away, because Viktor’s father saw just the opposite. He knew that there was no taming Viktor, and instead trusted him to make the right decisions for himself, considering that he was nearly thirty. It was no use, especially in his old age, to try and fight something that acts as the cornerstone to Viktor’s character.

As they sat at the table, quietly staring out the window and enjoying a comfortable silence, they turned to Makka pawing at the door leading outside. 

“Ah, you want to go out, baby?” Viktor asked, now cooing at his beloved poodle. “Will you excuse me?” He asked, beginning to rise from his chair. “She wants to go for a walk. Care to join?” 

“No, you go, Vitya. I’ll sit here,” his father responded in his husky voice, fishing a cigarette out from the box in his shirt pocket. “These old bones don’t like moving much anymore.” 

Laughing quietly, Viktor said, “Well, alright, if you’re sure. I’ll be back in a while to help Mama make dinner.” He kneeled down to his bag and fished out Makka’s leash, and at the sound of it, Makka began pacing around excitedly, barking once or twice. 

“Ah, calm down, give me a second!” He said, getting back up and walking over to her. She jumped on him as he bent back down to clip the leash to her collar. Viktor’s father found it endearing how much that dog loved Viktor, seeing the signs of age on its face on her graying muzzle, clouded eyes, musky fur, but even in its old age, act as though it were a puppy at the mere sight of a leash. Though not a dog, or animal person himself, the love that Viktor had given to his dog almost made him want to bring an animal into his life. Viktor had never been the type of person to want to go out of his way for others, to take care of another being, being sometimes blunt and cold toward his siblings when they were children and an even less caring teenager. But in his maturity, as most tend to do, he grew past those. Whether it was him overcoming the gaping holes of despair that come with one’s reconciliation of their smallness or just a simple change of character, Viktor gave off an entirely new atmosphere that Viktor’s father hadn’t before seen. 

It was warm and affectionate, like he was experiencing new emotions for the first time and had assimilated them into his character without a beat. Perhaps it was that boy that he had been spending the past few months with who brought out this new side of Viktor, who found a dark part of Viktor’s life and turned a light on for him. He had never bothered to care what others thought about his son, but knew now what whatever they thought was wrong. As Viktor opened the door and left, his father smiled to himself. What a wonderful person his Viktor turned out to be.

***

When Viktor returned, about an hour later, his mother had already started preparing dinner for them all that night. The house smelt of garlic that had just hit the pan, its fragrance dancing out from the kitchen and toward the door where Viktor entered. His mother, nearly as tall as he, had her hair laid back in a loose plait. She was wearing the apron Viktor had seen her wear for his entire childhood, a patterned blouse beneath it. Her beauty was just as steadfast as Viktor’s, but age carved itself favorably on her face, showing up as gentle crow’s and laugh lines, faint spider veins on her hands. 

Strangers often remarked at her beauty, and when he was a child, complimented her on her son’s beauty, too, then commented on their striking similarities. Despite the rift between them at present, seeing her son for the first time in years took her breath away. It was almost like she was looking into a mirror, even with his short hair. He bent over and held his dog’s face close to his own, leash still in hand, and gave her face a rough pet, cooing and exclaiming that he loved her, that she was a good girl. 

Viktor took her off the leash, and she almost bolted to the living room before Viktor grabbed her back and checked her paws for mud. His mother smiled, his affinity for cleanliness still enduring even now. Satisfied, he gave her a pat on her side, and she bolted. 

“Hi, Mama,” he said, noticing her gaze upon him. Looking back over to the hot stove, she greeted him back. From the corner of her eye, she saw his face fall slightly, and wondered why he’d react like that, considering the earful that he gave her the last time they spoke. He put his keys and wallet on the kitchen table and approached her, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands in the sink next to her. 

“What needs to be done?” He asked. 

“Chop those onions,” she said, gesturing her head to the vegetables in the bowl next to her. Quietly, Viktor grabbed a knife from the chopping block, put the onions on a cutting board, and went to the table behind them. He stood and chopped, quietly, as the garlic sizzled away quietly. Turning to watch Viktor adjust his sleeves and peel the onion skins after chopping their ends, she was surprised that he didn’t have more to say. He was never overly talkative, but considering the tension that existed between them, she was surprised that he even offered to help in the first place. She half expected him to storm to his room and close the door, not coming out except for food and drink. 

Turning back to the stove, she turned down the heat and begun chopping olives, parsley, and dill, which she did with a seasoned hand, and quickly added them to the pot. The garlic had become quite aromatic at this point, so she went to see if Viktor had finished with the onions, though he had finished before she could turn to check. He added them in with a gentle hand, the dice even and fine. He sat the cutting board in the sink, then went to the fridge. 

“You’re making solyanka, right? Do you want to use this chicken in the bottom, here?”

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” she said, taking the meat from his hand and unwrapping it. He grabbed another package of sausage, then took a sauté pan from the pantry above them. Placing it next to the pot with garlic and onion, he turned it on and added the oil, opening the package as the oil heated. What’s going on with him? she thought. He seldom offered to cook whenever he visited home and chose to drink with his siblings, all of whom were out and about, but he instead chose to cook with her. Was he going to ask her for a favor? Was he going to bring up their last argument? He wasn’t a vindictive person, much less one to let his anger bubble such as it did, so there was no predicting what his motives, if any, he had. 

As the oil heated up, Viktor held his hand just above the pan, and feeling satisfied with the temperature, he began to piece off the sausage into the pan, the meat sizzling loudly as it made contact with the hot pan. His mother continued to stir the chicken that she had just added to the garlic and onion mixture, and together they stood, silently cooking together.

“Mama,” he said, grabbing a spoon to stir the contents of his pan. “I’m sorry for yelling at you like I did.” 

“Vitya…” 

“You know that I care about you. Just because I don’t act how you want doesn’t mean that I don’t,” he said, checking the brownness on the sausage in the pan. “I just wish that you didn’t care what other people thought so much. I’m almost thirty, and I know what I like and don’t like.” 

She didn’t respond, but rather, she couldn’t. 

“I know that you do not like Yuuri, but I can live with that, because I love him. It hurts me to say that, but it’s true. He takes care of me, and I want to take care of him. There is no shame in that, other than the shame that you attach to it. Please,” Viktor pleaded. “I want you to trust me to make the right decisions for myself.” 

He was right, there was no changing who he was. She just wished that it didn’t disappoint her so. It was never a mother’s dream to resent their child for the way that they turned out to be, but what’s worse was that she wasn’t sure what she wanted from Viktor. Maybe she was projecting her desires to fix her own past failures onto Viktor, hoping to see herself in him. She didn’t know the answer, but in the room, felt something shift, though as she stared at Viktor, the smell of burning garlic and dill filled the room instead. 

“Ah, Mama! It’s burning!” 

Coming back to herself, she cut the heat and grabbed a wooden spoon. She sifted through the pan, assessing the damage. It was sticking to the pan slightly, but—

“It’s still fine, probably. Right?” Viktor asked. 

“Hm… yes, I suppose so. Don’t want to waste it, do we?” 

Viktor then added his ingredients to the pot, and his Mother added the stock, swirling it around such that she could scrape the bottom as clean as she could. She placed a lid on the pot, and turned the heat down once more. Looking again to her son as he washed his hands, his bright eyes just as beautiful as they were when he was a baby, she remarked at how striking he had become. 

“Vitya, I—” she started as he begun drying his hands, but, interrupting her, said “Oh, hold on! I have something for you!” 

He scurried away to the living room where he had moved his overnight bag, and sifted through his clothes. From it, he pulled out a small box wrapped in newspaper. 

“I didn’t have any wrapping paper but, happy birthday,” he said, standing back a step. 

“Should… should I open it? Would you mind?” She asked. 

“No, of course not! Please!” He said, urging her to open it. She tore the wrapping, and recognized the box immediately. Tearing it quicker, she opened the small red box and took out an even redder bottle. A perfume she had worn for years, but had recently had trouble finding, brought back memories of life when she was her son’s age. She had just Viktor, and was still living in Russia with her family. She could smell the perfume, but could smell the sweet scent of a newborn baby, the smoke-laden air of St. Petersburg, how much effort she put into wrapping him against the cold after he was born—how had he known that she wore this? 

“I remember seeing the bottle on your nightstand when I was little… I thought you would like it.” 

“Oh, Viktor, I love it. Thank you,” she said. “And, I’m sorry,” she added, wrapping her arms up and around his shoulders. He hesitated, but reciprocated her affections.

She wanted, even still, to reign him in and have him meet her expectations. But, did she want her son to be a reflection of herself? Or did she want a part of her to live on through him in his own way? Seeing her beautiful son, she suddenly didn’t care to entertain the opinions of others. He was himself, and she supposed that was enough, wasn’t it? There was no reflection of herself in him, she realized. What frustrated her, what she sought to grasp and tame was nothing but a feeling which existed solely within herself. He was his own person, unabashed in his belligerence and bull-headedness, but kind and tender in how he approached others. He was enigmatic in this sense, and it frustrated her.

She pulled away from him when she felt something vibrate in his pocket. 

“Ah, Mama, it’s Yuuri. Do you mind if I take this?” 

“No, no, go ahead,” she said quietly as he pulled away from her. 

He answered the phone in English, giving a jovial, “Good morning, darling! You’re awake before 11, huh?” He giggled to himself as he walked out of the house, gesturing with his hands with a bright smile growing on his face. Perhaps the dissatisfaction was something she would have to deal with herself, that there really was no use in reigning in someone who loved as much as Viktor. She turned back to the stove, cutting the heat and pulling the lid off of the pot, the steam cascading around her face and head. Despite having burnt part of it, she thought that she and Viktor had still made a wonderful meal. She turned back to the window and saw Viktor, still gesturing with one hand, his phone in the other, and felt a warmth grow from her chest. Despite their argument, she was glad that they could share this together. She was glad to have him home, even for now. 

Talking to Yuuri, a sense of comfort washed over Viktor. He was glad that their past argument wasn’t brought up, and felt a sense of redemption in how his mother hugged him. She, like himself, was not particularly good when dealing with the feelings of others. He struggled to even open up the way that he did, confessing his love for Yuuri to his mother, but knew that their relationship would benefit from it. Viktor talked to Yuuri with ease, the weight of his worries flying off of his shoulders. He said what he wanted to say, and felt like he could care for Yuuri better because of it. Yuuri had allowed new emotions to flow through him, and knowing that he could approach his family in a new way gave him the confidence to give Yuuri whatever he needed, to be a better partner to him. Through Yuuri, Viktor could help his family to understand him and himself better; even across the world, Yuuri could still reach him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! 
> 
> first: i recently set up a ko-fi to help pay for books this upcoming semester. If you enjoy this, or any of my other works, please consider donating. for every donation i get in the next week, i will write a short story about whatever prompt you leave for me!  
> https://ko-fi.com/isabellaofcastile
> 
> second: i am sorry for the prolonged updates. i have been thinking long and hard about how to use the absence between viktor and yuuri-- i am inclined to cut it short and reunite them, but i think there is a value in learning about who viktor and yuuri are in the absence of one another. in this universe, and in the yoi world, they would work to better themselves for the other. i hope that you all enjoy this! please let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> third: i know that the interactions that viktor has with his parents may not be realistic for many people, particularly in their outcomes. i took inspiration from my own family, but idealized it how you may have expected. i know it's far too common that gay characters have unsupportive or ignorant families, but i wanted to tap into the world that kubo swore she'd protect-- one where homophobia doesn't exist. so while i wanted to include some realistic elements, i didn't want viktor's growth to come from the place where he felt like he didn't need other people, but rather that he has found someone who helps him fulfill that need and he doesn't want to have poor relations with the people he felt like he didn't need. 
> 
> also, special thanks to mona @natilla (ao3)/@kouhina (twitter) for helping me with this chapter when i had writer's block!!!!! te quiero 
> 
> follow me on twitter! :^) @isaBELLUH97


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which viktor and yuuri reunite

Bright, white light streamed in through the window. Yuuri could feel the warmth pour in and over him, the late-morning light beckoning him to consciousness once and for all. The cotton sheets on the window swayed with the wind—weird, did he leave the window open last night? Looking down from the window Yuuri saw Viktor, sleeping peacefully. His hair fell over his face messily, but exposed his often-hidden left eye. He looked calm and comfortable, especially in how his face smooshed up against the pillow. Viktor, a force who had yet met a force which could tame it, looked magnificent even in the depths of sleep. Bringing himself closer, Yuuri brought his hand to the face of his beloved, tracing his thumb along the apple of his cheek and down to his bottom lip, letting it land on his chin. Yuuri cupped his jaw in his hand, then placed a gentle peck on his lips, hoping not to disturb his slumber, but failing in trying to do so.

As he pulled away and settled back into his pillow, Viktor’s eyes fluttered open and scanned Yuuri’s face, a smile growing as he blossomed into consciousness. Still smiling, now pulling them closer together and putting Yuuri’s hand back on his face, he mumbled under his breath, “I like when you do that, Yuuri.” Grinning himself, Yuuri brought his face just next to Viktor’s. He could feel Viktor’s breath on his face and under his hand, could feel the smile that had carved itself into his cheeks and eyes. He placed his hand on top of Yuuri’s, nuzzling closer into Yuuri’s body, their lips just barely touching.

“I’m glad that you’re home, Yuuri,” he said in a husky morning voice, his half-open eyes and sleepy smile brightening the atmosphere around them. “I missed you.”

Suddenly, awakening again, surroundings blurred and back beaded with sweat, Yuuri looked around. He realized that he didn’t recognize the room in his dream, in fact, but was disappointed nonetheless that it _was_ all a dream. In the months that he and Viktor were away from one another, Yuuri had recurring dreams about seeing him. They happened infrequently, but enough that the theme was recurring—soft, heavenly, the very aura that made Yuuri love Viktor as much as he did.

Yuuri stretched under the covers, contorting his body as it welcomed a new day. He then sat up and drew his curtains open, noticing a light snow on the ground—the first of the year. It was only early winter at this point, but felt much colder than that. He slumped over on his bed, feeling the cold from outside coax its way through his window, making him retreat back into the covers. After putting on his glasses, he pulled his phone out from under his pillow, noting the date—December 24th. He had just enough time to get ready and make breakfast before his flight to Detroit, the one which Viktor didn’t know about. Maybe it was a positive omen that he had had one of these dreams the day that he left Hasetsu again, he thought as he lay in bed, staring at his ceiling. 

“Yuuri? Are you awake?” his Mom asked as she poked her head in, taking a scan of his impeccably clean room.

“Ah, I see you finally cleaned your room, too!” she exclaimed indulgently; though she had raised her son to be hospitable and clean, in addition to living and working at the onsen, she was horrified at his affinity for piles when he first moved back home. It was forgivable for the first few weeks, of course, but continued to grow to the point where she questioned her parenting. To combat those feelings, she cracked the whip. No son of hers would live in such filth, and the fruits of her labor had shown.

Yuuri, however, was less thrilled about the whole situation. He hated packing, and could much less do that whilst maintaining a clean room. Under her calm and motherly appearance lived someone with the power to strike the fear of God into anyone that she felt deserved it, and it wasn’t until Yuuri had moved back home that he first experienced this. So, the minor annoyance of keeping his room clean (which, in his defense, was the surest sign of stress for him) could be easily shadowed by his desire to never, never have his Mom yell at him the way that she did… but, nevertheless, that was not what today was about.

“Yeah, I did… Thanks for checking on me,” he said, pulling his feet out from under the covers and putting on his house shoes. He scratched his head and yawned as he walked toward the door, then wrapping his arms around his mom’s shoulders. Though she and his dad were both short in stature, he and his sister both towered over them, for some reason. 

She hugged him back, rubbing her hands up and down his back and aching for her son’s departure. It didn’t feel like he was back for that long, and she loved having everyone back in the house again. But, though it was bittersweet, she knew that Yuuri yearned for the man he had told her and his sister so much about. She could tell by the way that he stared longingly out of windows and kept to himself that he was searching for something, but was suddenly jubilant and chipper when he bought his plane tickets and began to pack. 

Looking up at her son as he pulled away from her, she felt the same love for him that she did when she saw him for the first time. In a way, it almost felt like she was seeing him for the first time again; like in anyone’s life, there are some events which cause a person to be reborn, in a way. Maybe this was one of them, she thought. Perhaps he and this man were destined to be together. 

Now finally coaxed out of bed, Yuuri collected himself and got ready to leave. It was still quite early, but the excitement of finally seeing his beloved—a surprise, no less, was enough to energize him for the rest of the day. The time away from Viktor had been valuable to Yuuri for many reasons: while his anxiety was hard to manage when he first arrived home, not having Viktor’s comforting and understanding presence to calm the crashing waves of restlessness and panic made his fellowship more difficult to adjust to. In this, Yuuri was finally able to ascertain the beauty and relief that Viktor brought into his life. Leaving Detroit and coming back to Hasetsu forced Yuuri to realize the void that Viktor had been occupying, and what it felt like to live without him. 

When in Detroit, he felt that his home back in Hasetsu was the one thing he _knew_. But upon his arrival back home, realized that he didn’t know Hasetsu, anymore. It and his family changed so much in the 5 years that he was away; expecting to come home to something familiar but being greeted with something entirely different triggered a sense of unease in Yuuri; who was he, now, if he didn’t fit back into Hasetsu? It was as if he had been a sapling taken from one forest and planted in another, but grew into something completely different from his family and his hometown. That familiarity and safety was what he returned home for, but without that, who was Yuuri? He knew that he, himself, had changed during his time abroad, but began to lose sight of himself, of the parts of him that made him _Yuuri_. Did he even know them in the first place? It was easy to get lost in these kinds of questions, he realized. 

Then, Yuuri felt as if a light had just been turned on: he thought back to he and Viktor’s first trip together, back to their first night together, to the night that they met. The common thread among them, the feeling that each tender memory shared, was that of acceptance, of love and of life. Yuuri hadn’t had anyone look at him with such a sense of longing and gentleness before, who loved him even when he existed to spite himself. To him, Viktor’s love felt like the warm, soft part of Vicchan’s ear when he was a puppy, the pungent yet enticing scent of freshly-ground coffee, the way that wine clings to his tongue and teeth, coaxing sip after sip yet staining his teeth… 

It was the feeling that he got knowing that even despite his insecurities, his distorted self-image and penchant for anxiety, that Viktor loved him; that in spite of the facets of Yuuri’s character which he thought might be unpalatable to some, Viktor always came back for more. He felt and searched for the precious parts of him and held them close to himself; that if he was hard to soothe or erratic, that Viktor would only draw closer. It made him think, if Viktor could love him, then there must be something that he could find in himself to love? Maybe that was what made it so hard to leave, Yuuri thought. He craved that challenge, as satisfying as the cracking of a new book’s spine, yet as lovely as a buttercup poking through the cracks of a sidewalk. He could find Viktor in himself, and through his light, find a part of himself that he was only now gaining the strength to explore.

Yuuri knew that he had met a new side of himself through his relationship with Viktor. It wasn’t that he come back to a new home, but that he returned a new person. This wasn’t a bad thing, he assured himself. In fact, it was exciting. He saw Viktor and didn’t just see the barista who helped him through school, the man who believes in him and reminds him that he doesn’t amount to his shortcomings. He looks at Viktor and can feel his future unfold in front of him, he can feel the warmth of love and possibility blossom in his chest, knows that the person he is with Viktor is beckoning him back to Detroit; the love that they share spread itself through and out of his chest, almost as if to pull him to his destiny, wherever that may be. Yuuri didn’t particularly care where that was. For now, though, he was about to board a plane and make the trek back to Detroit, hopefully to where he would find Viktor create their new beginning.  
\---  
Viktor woke up on the 24th as if it were a normal day. Until the actual day, he found it became easier and easier to forget about his birthday each time that it came around. It was never a source of sadness to him, since talk of birthdays before the day itself was never normal in his family. Though he adored grand gestures, nothing about his birthday stood out to him. It had become just another day to him, and especially since Yuuri wasn’t here to potentially celebrate it with him, it felt no different than any other day of the year.

Just as he did most other days, Viktor made the trek to the café, which as of late, had been less fulfilling than before. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of a café, in fact, the romance of it was what made him apply in the first place. It was the monotony of the franchise he managed that wore him down. The menu never changed, he had an entirely new staff every 6 months, and there was little room to reflect what was left of his youthful, creative spark on the store itself. The renovations he assisted in were lackluster, only further connecting his store with others in the franchise as they rebranded themselves. His job had become only a source of income for him, now. He considered quitting since his apartment’s lease was ending in the new year, but didn’t know where he would go, what he would do, or who he would be with.

“Maybe I could move to Chicago?” he asked Makka as they sat on the couch after his shift that day, the water in his glass moving as he expressed himself through his hands. Makka stared intently, listening to him as he thought out loud. “I could maybe get another teaching position there, or I could get my Master’s, finally…”

The sun behind him had begun to set, the bright pinks and oranges spilling through the window and across his small apartment, creating an atmosphere fit for such ruminations. It felt empty that night. He wanted something, someone, anything else to be there with him. What was all of this space with no one to share it with? What was life without someone to enjoy it with? He was tired of being alone, tired of only being accompanied by his own thoughts and indulged in his yearning for Yuuri’s presence. He had tried hard to resist those thoughts, thinking that they would only make him feel more lonely, but eventually he had to give in. Makka, certainly, wanted for nothing. She was fully content with her small box of toys and tattered old bed. 

Viktor drank the last of the water in his cup, letting out a loud exhale and setting the glass on the table next to him. “Maybe we can just stay here for another year. What do you think, Makka?”

Until then, Makka had been drifting in and out of sleep. Her eyes opened with Viktor’s mention of her name, but quickly closed when she realized that he had nothing for her. Viktor leaned his head back on the armrest of the couch, reaching to grab the small photo frame that sat on it. He often looked at this photo, the one of he and Yuuri at his graduation, when he felt lonely. Knowing that Yuuri was still “close” made him feel better, but also reminded him of the loneliness that had taken up residence inside of him. 

He came to terms with how that crevice wouldn’t be filled by his own volition, but reconciling with his family gave him the strength to begin filling it once and for all. He just wished that Yuuri were there with him—he would be able to top it off completely, but he wouldn’t rely on Yuuri like that until their lives became more stable. He didn’t know quite when that would be, but hoped it was soon, though he’d never tell Yuuri that.

Since he had moved home, he was busy helping his old skating instructor and doing research for the firm he had secured a fellowship with. He wasn’t as quick to respond to Viktor’s messages, which the time difference didn’t help, either. But, nevertheless, Viktor had lived on his own before, and he could continue to do so until he and Yuuri’s futures became clearer. For now, though, Viktor’s future remained shrouded in a fog of uncertainty. He had always had a healthy sense of “self,” ever since he was young. There weren’t times in his life where he did something that he wasn’t totally confident was a thing he wanted to do. But, there was also never a time in which he asked himself, “Is this enough?”

The constant race to surprise himself and to simply _do_ lasted well through his twenties, but when he met Yuuri, came to a screeching halt. It wasn’t that he realized that he didn’t have enough, but rather, he had never taken stock of what he did have. That is, there was a part of him that he had yet to nurture in the midst of his youth: life and love. He had the necessities, the things which made him feel productive and “whole,” like a job and a warm place to live, a dog which loved unconditionally, a city that accepted him, a degree… but when he looked into himself after trying to understand what it was about Yuuri that affected him so much, he found a dark, dusty corner of his soul that he had ignored. It seemed that just when a light was entering, Yuuri had to leave.

That’s not to say Viktor ever resented Yuuri. He had no reason to do so, nor would he ever resent _anybody_ for something like this. It was like a dream in which he could feel his legs moving and sense movement around him, but his surroundings stayed the same; he hadn’t noticed that his surroundings were static fixations, and Yuuri was the catalyst that made them begin to move, that made him notice they were static in the first place.

So, when he left, the color dimmed and the lights faded, his surroundings slowed and he felt that strange sensation, the one where you want so desperately to move, but have no agency with which to do so. Maybe when they reunited, Viktor would have a better idea of what would fill that void once and for all, how Yuuri’s life and love could help him find one of his own. For now, he found himself staring longingly at the Yuuri encapsulated in the picture frame. His bright, vivacious smile, so big that his eyes closed beneath their frames; his graduation cap askew, hair-gel losing its hold… At the end of the day, even when Viktor wasn’t acquainting himself with the loneliness inside of him, he missed Yuuri’s laughter and joy. He had the kind of laugh that made you laugh harder in response to hearing it, a smile that one’s eyes couldn’t help but fix on when looking at him. Everything about him reminded Viktor of something he lacked, something that he had yet to search for.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Viktor placed the photo back on the table beside him. Noticing the sky darkening before him, he thought that it was as good a time as any to begin fixing dinner for himself. All he could hear was Makka’s gentle breathing and his own rustling on the couch, the occasional door open and then close. His apartment felt quiet, but the quiet had started to feel too loud, to gaping. He wanted to fill it with something, or rather, with someone. But, while he gathered himself and made his way toward the kitchen, Viktor heard his front door’s knob begin to jiggle and turn. Standing in the doorway, fearful of who could be trying to get in, Viktor was surprised to see that it was none other than his beloved, red-faced as he tapped the snow off of his shoes before entering. As their eyes met, Yuuri jumped back and gasped.

“Why are you home?!” he shouted at Viktor as his face bloomed red with embarrassment.

“What do you mean?” Viktor shouted back, throwing his hands into the air in confusion, followed by a hearty laugh. There was no reason to be upset in this situation, he just relished in the irony of it all. 

“Aren’t you usually working now?” Yuuri asked, dropping his luggage on the ground and holding his hands up in the air. 

“It’s Christmas Eve, Yuuri! Everything closes early here today,” he replied, almost as if to scold Yuuri—it had been barely a year since he left, surely he should have remembered that _one_ American custom. 

Yuuri’s face contorted in confusion and frustration. “I came all the way here thinking that I was going to surprise you…” he said, putting his gloved hand on his face. “Only to walk in on you in your own home.”

Overcome with every emotion he could possibly put words to-- irony, humor, love, surprise, embarrassment-- Viktor allowed himself to be speechless, just this once. Usually he was the one who loved to surprise, but it felt nice being on the receiving end for once. As Yuuri stared at his hands, almost as if to calculate a way to “fix” his surprise that had just been subverted, Viktor pulled him into the apartment, shut the door, and squeezed him. He let his head rest atop Yuuri’s hat, felt his hands move from his chest to his back… Viktor wasn’t particularly religious-- spiritual, perhaps, but in that moment, he asked God if this was what “home” felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. i have a lot of explaining to do, i think...  
> i know that i said i would try and update more over my winter break, and my goal was actually to finish the story, but my depression only got worse when i was out of school. i work a retail job that isn't particularly demanding, but it made me feel SO exhausted. constantly. i couldn't sit to write for more than 15 or 20 minutes at a time, either. i am back in school now, but i will see this story through to the end no matter what! my depression is still pretty bad, as i get exhausted very quickly, have really poor time management/sleeping schedule, etc., in addition to work and school, but had an appointment with a psychiatrist, so i really hope that things start to get better. i hope that you all understand. i worked very hard on this chapter, so i hope that you all enjoy it. i wanted this to be longer, but it already took me three weeks to write this much, and i was quite satisfied with how it ended, so if i had tried to write any more then it would have been a really long time until i updated. anyways, please let me know what you think... i love you all :-) 
> 
> also, special thanks to mona @natilla (ao3)/@kouhaina (twitter) and izzy @izzyisozaki (ao3/twitter) for beta reading this chapter for me and giving me encouragement when i needed it! izzy is also in the terra incognita 2.0 zine so. get excited y'all its gonna b good 
> 
> i am also on twitter screaming about the olympics atm ---> @isaBELLUH97


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